


Baby

by RedChucks



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Bisexual, Genderfluid Characters, Multi, Queer Characters, Swearing, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-21 02:03:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 38,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12447260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedChucks/pseuds/RedChucks
Summary: I need a place to put this as I write it as I don't want to lose it from my phone. The whole thing has been written in my notes, when I've been unable to sleep, sitting in the hospital with my daughter. I needed to get this out of my brain so here it is.- This story has now had an edit. The story of Gabe and the baby, how they came to be together, and how they came to be happy.





	1. Chapter 1

It was possibly the greyest day he'd ever seen, Gabe thought as he stopped at the intersection, breathing hard from the ice in the air. The sky was a great blanket of grey clouds without so much as a shard of blue breaking through anywhere, and it made the world seem harsh and over exposed, as if a layer of colour had been stripped away. It made Gabe’s skin prickle uncomfortably, as did the sight of the squat, grey, building across the road. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, when he’d felt so alone and stir-crazy from the solitude, but now he wasn't so sure and the feeling made his throat tight, like the coffee he'd had for breakfast was attempting to commando crawl up. It wouldn't be hard to turn around and go home again, he thought. No one knew he had come this close and they almost definitely expected him to be flaky and unreliable and probably not turn up at all.

And that was the real point, he reminded himself, chewing hard on his lip, to prove that he was responsible, and that he could do this, and that he wasn't just some useless little punk who ruined everything. He was a parent now. A fact which was pretty bloody obvious, what with the pram he was gripping so hard his hands were starting to hurt, but he was aware that it was jarring for people, to see a guy of twenty, a runt with a tattooed arms and a spike in his nose, dressed in a worn-thin band t-shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans that weren't quite skinny enough... and a baby. 

The nurse who'd visited the house a week after he'd come home had been dubious, Gabe could tell, and he'd done his best to seem non-threatening and competent, but it'd been hard, sleep deprived as he was, still devastated by all that had happened, and he worried he'd just come across as a bit thick and clueless. He wasn't used to being alone, he’d explained, hadn't anticipated it, hadn't had this picture in his head when he was thinking about impending fatherhood. And he’d eventually, and a little tearfully, told that and more to the nurse.

The advice and support had come a little more readily after that, once he’d started blubbing; to sleep when the baby slept, to always support the head, to wipe front to back, all stuff Gabe knew already but he nodded gratefully all the same. He needed someone on his side and even if she'd seemed a little Trunchball-like at first Gabe reckoned the nurse was a good sort, scary-looking sure, but with a heart of soft butter beneath. She'd even made him a cup of tea, and he was desperately grateful for that. No one had made him tea in a long while. No one had been around to do it.

There were people who'd anticipated the birth of the baby, of course, but none had been by, no one seemed to want to come near. It was all too sad. He'd told the nurse that as well, which was when she'd recommended the parenting groups they ran down at the family health clinic, and he'd agreed because she'd seemed to want him to and because she'd said there was a group for parents of premmies starting up soon and that sometimes other dads came along more to that group, and wouldn't that be nice? He'd felt so pathetic but he'd agreed to it all the same. Now he wasn't so sure.

The lights changed and the little green man appeared, demanding movement, and Gabe was halfway across the road before he realised that he was still walking in the direction of the health centre instead of back toward home.

"Fuck," he swore under his breath, glancing down in the pram to make sure the baby was still asleep and not hearing his bad language. He was already failing at being a parent; he didn't want the baby's first word to be unrepeatable. The judging would never stop if that happened and the whole world would know what a failure he was as a parent. They’d take the baby away for sure and he no longer wanted that.

He had to go in backwards to the health centre, to push the door open with his shoulder and then pull the pram through while wedging the heavy glass open with his foot, and it seemed like a real design flaw because surely there were prams coming and going from this place all day, but he didn't have a chance to mull it over once he was inside because suddenly every adult eye in the room was staring at him with suspicion. None of the babies or toddlers were eying him off and it was something he liked about kids, that they didn't judge too quickly most of the time, but dealing with grown ups was harder and Gabe felt the sick feeling increase in his throat as he looked around the waiting room for some clue as to what came next.

"Can I help you?" Came a distant voice, pushing through the brain fog, and eventually Gabe focused on a woman behind a little window, looking at him with her eyebrows raised and reminding him a bit of a bilby with her long nose and nervous eyes. She gestured to the chair opposite her little window and Gabe nodded, grateful for the directive. 

Taking a deep breath he pushed the pram over to the window and sat down awkwardly, pressing his hands between his thighs to keep the fidgets at bay. He was about to give his name when a movement off to the side caught his attention and he turned to see a woman jump from her chair and open the heavy glass doors to let another mother and pram enter. The same woman who'd sat and watched but hadn't moved to help as he'd struggled to get in, which at the time had been alright but which now, seeing how happily she held the door for someone else and chatted and introduced herself, made Gabe want to climb in to the basket of the pram and bury himself under nappies so that no one would ever look at him again.

"Hi," he tried again, turning back to the bilby woman and attempting a smile that just went rather wobbly and fell off his face as she peered at him. "I'm Gabe, um, Gabriel Perez. I'm here for the, uh, premmie baby parents group?"

"Oh! Okay then," the woman said slowly, looking down her long nose to the list in her hands, taking her time it seemed before finding his name and placing a tick beside it. "Welcome along," she smiled tightly, and then, leaning as far forward as the glass between them allowed, she grinned down at the pram. "And who's this tiny little bundle of joy then?"

"Oh," Gabe answered flatly, frowning as he looked down as well, staring at the small pink face that was scrunched up in sleep. "That's the baby."

 

*


	2. Chapter 2

It had been the sort of teenage romance that nobody with any sense expected to last. An intelligent girl like Kim might develop a crush on a rough, wayward boy like Gabe Perez but it would be short lived, her parents and teachers all agreed, and then she would get back to her studies and fulfilling the high hopes they all had for her. There was only so long a girl’s head could be turned by a boy who graffitied under train bridges. Even Gabe had been surprised when Kim had actually reciprocated his feelings. She'd had short, silky black hair and flawless skin and bright, coffee black eyes, and Gabe thought she was the most beautiful human being he’d ever seen and completely out of his league. 

When Gabe had pointed out that she looked like the finished masterpiece to his scruffy haired, acne scarred, crooked tooth, rough draft, she'd laughed and offered to teach him how to blend concealer and use her straighteners if he really wanted. The look on her face when Gabe had taken her up on the offer had been priceless and all too soon they'd been snogging and sneaking out and taking all the dumb risks which teenagers need to take, for two glorious years. 

Any and all attempts to talk Kim out of her unhealthy relationship had fallen on deaf ears, she was determined to keep her boyfriend and her grade point average and it had seemed that she would succeed.   
She graduated at the top of her class and Gabe actually graduated, which had surprised everyone, though not quite as much as turning up in matching suits to the school formal had. The two sides of the androgyny coin they'd called themselves, flawless and rough, sweet and tough.  
But Kim's parents had still done all within their power to separate the two, and to point out Gabe's failings. 

"Is he going to university?" her father had asked her one night, standing in the bedroom doorway and refusing to let her pass. 

"No,” she responded flatly, fighting to keep her cool as she stuffed the last of her clothes and make-up and books in to her bag. 

"Then why?" her father had demanded. "You can do so much better!"

Kim sighed and turned to her mother, hoping one last time for some sort of support, but the woman was sitting primly on her bed with her arms crossed and a severe expression on her face. 

"Don't look at me for help. Your father's right," she argued. "You are beautiful and intelligent, you have your whole life ahead of you. And he is just... short, Kim, like a little troll. He falls short in all ways, in his mind, in his behaviour, in his manner. He has no manners."

"He does! You just never give him a chance," Kim groaned through gritted teeth. They'd had this conversation so many times but it never got them anywhere and she was beyond tired of it all. "He hasn't had it easy, you know? He hasn't had two parents who want to suffocate him and control his life. You just need to give him a chance to open up. He's a good person. He’s just shy."

"He doesn't look shy to me," her father shrugged, dismissing all she'd just said as he loomed over her, forcing his way in to her personal space to stop her from leaving. "He looks like a trouble maker. He has a ring in his nose and he wears make-up for goodness sake. He is not an appropriate boyfriend for a girl like you."

"And he's short," her mother added snidely and it took all of Kim's self control not to scream.

"I like that he's short," she snapped, turning on the woman and finally letting her rage show. "I like that we're the same height, that we match and that we can swap clothes. And I like that he wears make-up," she continued, loving the shock on her parents’ faces as she raised her voice. "And it's my make-up by the way. I gave it to him and I taught him to use it, and he’s brilliant at it. And he's sweet and funny and thoughtful," she went on, feeling the volume of her voice increase, along with her temper, but no longer caring that raising her voice to her parents was a thing that only 'bad girls' did and that she had worked her whole life to be a 'good girl'. "And he makes me happy. That should be enough for you, surely? He makes me happy when nothing else in this world does. He doesn't pressure me to be something I'm not, doesn't pressure me about anything; he just likes me the way I am. In fact he likes it when I take charge and speak my mind rather than forcing myself to be a good little girl."

"Because he wants to ruin you!" her father suddenly yelled but Kim was beyond being cowed. That voice wasn’t going to work on her anymore.

She grabbed her full backpack and pushed past him in to the hallway, refusing to look back when her mother called out to her and when her father threatened her. She was done. She was eighteen, she had a part time job and two months of freedom before university began and she wasn't going to put up with her parents’ narrow minds any more. She’d played by their rules her entire life and been miserable for as long as she could remember, but not any more.

"He will ruin you," her father yelled behind her but Kim simply raised her finger at him as she opened the front door and stepped through. "He will ruin you. And when he does we will not be there to rescue you! We will not take you back!"

“Good!” she yelled over her shoulder, and the slam of the door sounded like the ultimate victory, the end of her old life and the beginning of something new.

Gabe was waiting for her at the end of the driveway, biting his thumb nail and looking utterly terrified at the noise her parents were still making, feet shuffling like he was getting ready to kick some shins in case a quick getaway was needed, but he was quick to grin when he saw her smile.

"So that's done," she'd said with more confidence than she felt. "What now?"

Gabe just shrugged and tilted his chin in her direction, so she kissed him soundly, tangling her hand in his hair and tugging just enough to make him mewl. Her parents didn't understand, nobody understood. They thought Gabe was some sort of criminal delinquent, hard man when he was really an angel. He was the only person who didn't try to change her or own her or tell her she had to be a good girl or nice or pretty. Because sometimes Kim didn't feel like being a girl and Gabe was perfectly fine with that, liked it in fact, and Kim knew that that was special and worth holding on to.

Whatever happened in life, she told herself, she wasn't going to let go of her Gabe. Not for anything.

 

*


	3. Chapter 3

Gabe was starting to shiver by the time the other parents arrived - all mums, not a dad in sight - and wished he could take his hoodie back out of the pram, but knew he couldn't. It'd been fine when he was walking and the freezing air had actually been a welcome relief but now he was sitting still and so was feeling cold again, though some of the shivering was definitely nerves and some of it, he was pretty sure, was because he hadn't been able to face breakfast that morning. He would just have to ride it out, he decided, and hope that no one took any notice once the group got under way.

They were all sitting on the floor in a big room, in a circle against the walls, because that was what the nurse - the Trunchball one Gabe had met before - had told them to do and it seemed that no one wanted to disobey a woman who looked like she could carry a dozen babies at once.  
All of the mums had left their prams lined up in the hallway and were either holding their infants or had spread out baby blankets and laid the tiny things down to squirm and kick while they smiled and cooed at them. 

Gabe had purposely positioned himself in the corner by the door, hoping to go unnoticed and hoping that no one would ask why he wasn't showing off his own baby. This had been a bad idea, he berated himself again, an utter mistake, because instead of proving that he could be trusted with a child he only seemed to be showing ever more clearly that he didn't have what it took to be a parent.

He'd just decided to try and sneak out when the nurse walked back in to the room to begin the group and fixed her eyes right on him.

"You alright there, Gabriel?" She asked, her voice sharp enough to make him jump where he stood, his eyes darting from her face to the pram to the room full of mothers and babies as he struggled to come up a plausible excuse.

"Yup," he nodded quickly. "I just..."

"Oh, I see," she said when he failed to continue, and for a second Gabe actually thought she was going to let him leave, but she just patted him on the shoulder and gestured for him to sit back down. "Normally we wouldn't have prams in here but her equipment’s all strapped on there and its fine. Don't fret. But you can bring her out to say hello if you want. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?"

Gabe hesitated long enough that she turned away and began to quiet down the rest of the room, welcoming everyone and explaining what the group was for.

"Having a new baby can be hard," she told them, and there was a general nodding consensus from the women, and shared, knowing smiles. "But having a child who is born early has its own added worries, doesn't it? And even when you finally get to bring your baby home it's not easy. There are different needs and milestones and sometimes added health concerns," she gestured to Gabe at that and he quickly looked down as the group turned as one to stare at him. "But that doesn't mean you have to do it alone. This group is designed to help you learn more about common issues that all parents face, and some that are unique to premature babies, and to help you build friendships too, obviously."

There was a titter at that but Gabe wasn't sure how it was funny. Maybe they were laughing at how ridiculous an idea it was that any of them would want to make friends with him. Maybe it was a mum thing that he just didn't get. He didn't care at that point, he just wanted to go home where there was no one to stare at either of them and they could cry and sleep and be alone.

"So today's topic is adjusting to life at home, but before we do that, why don't we-"

A knock on the door interrupted the well-rehearsed speech and Gabe recognised the voice of the woman from the front desk, apologising for the interruption and ushering in a latecomer. Gabe didn't look up, even when the newcomer sat down in the only remaining space, right beside him. He didn't want to make uncomfortable eye contact with some happy new mum, or worse, her normal healthy baby.

"Thank you for joining us, Viv," the nurse said with more warmth than Gabe had heard from her before, and he felt a strange spark of jealousy flare in his chest. "I was just about to say that to start we might go around the circle and introduce ourselves. Does that sound alright?" she asked without waiting for a response. "How about you each say your name, and the name of our baby, and husband or partner and any other kids at home, and then maybe how many weeks gestation baby got to and a word or two about the premmie experience so far. Sound good? Good. Cathy, why don't you get us started?"

Gabe glanced up at the woman who was happily introducing herself. She was the same woman who hadn't opened the door to help him but had helped the woman who came in after. She looked far too put together for a new mother, with her styled chestnut hair and immaculate make-up. Her son had been born at thirty-four weeks, they'd spent one month in hospital, and she and her husband were thrilled to have their baby boy home. The next woman, Gabe missed her name, looked a lot more tired. Her daughter was born at thirty-two weeks with some breathing issues: two months in hospital, she and her husband had been through several rounds of IVF before finally falling pregnant, a miracle they called their daughter. 

And so they went round the circle, thirty weeks, emergency Caesarean, thirty-three weeks, touch and go to start but doing well now, family happy to be all home together, gestational diabetes, twenty-nine weeks, vaginal birth, one twenty-two week warrior; tearful but happy mothers bonding and relieved to be home from the hospital and getting on with raising and loving their babies. Eight women and then, Gabe realised, it was his turn, and he didn't want to speak. He wasn’t sure he even could. 

"I'm Gabe," he mumbled raising his voice loud enough to be heard but not raising his eyes from the carpet. "Um. Twenty-eight weeks. Heart... heart and lung failure. A brain injury they think. Um," he could hear the trembling of his voice as he spoke, making it hard for him to keep himself calm. What else was he supposed to tell them all? To reveal to a bunch of strangers so they could try and force a vague friendship? "Um... I don't know what..."

"His name?" the woman to his right asked gently, patting him on the knee like his gran had used to do when he was upset but didn't want to admit it and couldn't bear to ask for a hug. "What's his name, love?"

Her own baby had been born the earliest, Gabe remembered that if not her name, and he was torn between wanting to shuffle away from her touch and wanting to give in to the comfort she was offering, but he couldn't do either. She'd asked a question and they were all waiting. 

"The baby," he said shakily. "It's a girl. She's a girl. Her mum wanted her named Frankie so... that's what she's called."

The silence in the room was thick and his words seemed to be hanging in it, refusing to just disappear like he wanted them to until finally a throat cleared to his left and he remembered, with relief, that there was one more mum to go.

"I'm Vivyan," came the voice and Gabe looked up in surprise because the voice was deep and a little rough, like it was fraying round the edges from misuse. "My daughter Emmaline was born at thirty-three weeks. Her mother... she was my best friend... we were planning to co-parent..." 

Gabe tried not to stare. He hated other people staring at him, especially when he was struggling with emotions and pain and it was obvious as hell that Vivyan was struggling, but it was hard not to look so he tried moving his gaze from the man's face down to the baby in his arms and then back again, to break it up a bit, so he didn't feel like such a creep.

Vivyan looked like the sort of guy who normally took very good care of himself. Gabe had a pretty accurate gaydar, a bisexual super power they'd always jokingly said, and he was pretty sure Vivyan was gay. He had high cheekbones and delicate features, plump, bee-stung lips, pale blue eyes, shortly cropped strawberry blonde hair and stubble, and pale, heavily freckled skin. He was tall too, Gabe could tell by the way his long limbs were folded awkwardly in the corner, and his long fingered hands were cradling his baby delicately and lovingly and… Gabe looked around at the women who were listening to him with such care and sympathy, feeling a little overwhelmed, and, once again, a little jealous.

"We planned to co-parent but," Vivyan's voice cracked, "she didn't survive the birth. Preeclampsia."

Gabe shut his eyes, trying to stop the tears and block out the reality of the other man's words. There was too much emotion just flooding forth from him and it was pulling Gabe under and he squeezed his eyes as tightly shut as he could to block it out, but only managed to send purple sparks flaring in the dark behind his eyelids. There were murmurs around the room, people saying they were sorry, offering help, telling him how strong he was, how amazing. He opened his eyes and watched Vivyan's lips; so surprisingly full in his otherwise thin face, as he spoke of how blessed he felt to have his daughter. 

Babies were miracles, or so the general consensus went, and Gabe bit his lip hard to stop himself from speaking. The hour slipped by, but not fast enough by half for Gabe, who couldn't seem to warm up, or focus on what was being said, and when the sound of a baby's half-hearted cries drifted in to his hearing it took far too long for his brain to click in to gear and inform him that it was his baby doing the crying. 

"How about we leave things there for today?" the nurse smiled as Gabe stood awkwardly over the pram. "We'll all catch up again next week but you know that you can call us any time if you need a little extra support."

Gabe was grateful and waited until he knew people were moving out of the room before bending over to remove his hoodie from the pram, where it had been serving as an extra blanket, and then carefully sliding his hands under and lifting the twitching baby to his chest. He had to be careful because he found the nasal-gastric tube was always getting tangled and caught on things and he didn't want to pull it, and he couldn't move far because the oxygen canister was strapped to the pram and the tubing didn't stretch much. Her nappy wasn’t full and she wasn't due for a feed for another half hour, but Gabe thought it was probably best to do it now, rather than have her get hungry on the walk home but stopped short when he realised the mistake he’d made. He needed to feed the baby but he couldn’t because now that now that he'd picked up the baby he couldn’t reach the formula and syringes. 

"D'you need a hand?"

What with the worry over being seen doing it all wrong and the weak kitten cries of the baby, he hadn't realised there was still anyone in the room, but Vivyan was standing in the doorway, his own daughter strapped snuggly in a fancy-looking baby carrier, and a matching nappy bag slung over his shoulder.

"Um," Gabe wavered. Vivyan was really very tall and he felt small and stupid and inadequate by comparison. Then again, he really did need the help and Vivyan looked like he knew all about being a proper, responsible, parent. "I need to feed her. But her formula's down in the bag. And the syringes for the tube. She needed picking up but now I can't reach anything."

He’d started to babble and felt himself blush as he stumbled over his words, wishing he’d just said that he was fine and found some other way to sort out his mess. The other man just nodded though, and gave him a smile that made Gabe feel a bit sick. Then, of course, he began to look tentatively in the bag hanging from the pram's front and Gabe got the impression that Vivyan had never had to touch something so old and unfashionable in his life. It made Gabe want to kick him but he knew he couldn't. He needed the help and the man was holding a baby so kicking was well out of the question but it was hard to bite his tongue and keep his cool all the same. The baby was crying and he hated the baby crying because it tore at his heart and made him want to cry right along with it and this guy was just moving way too slow, and judging him with every breath.

It wasn't like he'd wanted to buy a second hand baby bag, but everything had been so messed up, so out of order, and so distressing, and when it'd finally come time to bring the baby home a nurse'd had to sit down with him and make a list of everything he needed, and the list had been long. He'd been so relieved that the church op-shop near his flat even had a pram and nappy bag and plastic baby bath that he hadn't given a shit about whether it was all a bit faded and stained. It shouldn't matter to anyone else that it wasn't fancy; the baby didn't care.

"Emmaline's on formula too, but it wasn't my first choice," Vivyan said when he'd found what he needed, mixing the water with the powder and shaking it up like he'd been doing it for years already rather than months. 

"Not really a lot of options, mate," Gabe mumbled back, but Vivyan cocked his head to the side, considering.

"Well, I tried sourcing breast milk originally, but there's no milk bank in this state apparently and it was just such a hassle."

Gabe just nodded. He hadn't really had anyone to talk to over the last several months, at least not anyone who wasn't a medical professional, and even if the guy was a bit stuck up his voice was nice to listen to. He had the slightest lisp and his voice was sad and soft and deep, the sort of voice that drew people in and made them listen and like you. It was the voice of a person who had their life together, a person so different from Gabe that it was probably embarrassing for both of them.

"Her stomach dun't work too good," he mumbled when Vivyan stopped talking, waiting for a reply. "And she dun't suck properly either."

He sat back down on the floor, struggling to keep his balance with his hands occupied, and let the other man pass the prepared formula down to him in the syringe, fumbling to twist it on to the gastric tube and start the feed, knowing that someone was watching him. He mumbled a thank you but kept his eyes down, hoping he wouldn't have to keep making conversation as his heart hammered in his chest at being so trapped but Vivyan didn’t move, except to shuffle from foot to foot. Gabe could see his tall, skinny legs out the corner of his eye but he didn't look up and eventually the man made an awkward farewell and left and Gabe was alone save for the baby in his arms as the tears behind his eyes.

 

*


	4. Chapter 4

Kim stretched as the morning sun drifted through her eyelids and brought her back to wakefulness. The stretch was then followed by a desperate grab at the mattress to stop her from falling off. Their bed now wasn't as wide as the one she'd used to have at home, and sometimes she forgot. Sometimes she forgot she was now sharing a bed on a permanent basis and accidentally hit Gabe in his poor, pretty face when she rolled over in the night or stretched a little too far in the morning. They were both adapting to living together, to no longer being school kids, and to the freedom of not having to sneak around to avoid her parents, and it was wonderful. She knew that Gabe worried that she'd find it too hard or would get bored of him but she had no intention of leaving. 

She didn't care that their bed was a mattress held off of the floor by a couple of wooden slats, or that their furniture was minimal and mostly salvaged from hard rubbish. She didn't care that all they had in their kitchen was instant coffee and cheap tea and a ninety-nine cent loaf of bread. She could do without television and even Wi-Fi because she was finally, truly, happy. No amount of luxuries could replace what she had now, with Gabe.

She turned to look at his face as he slept, letting out a snort of laughter at the madness that was his hair after a night of sex and his usual restless sleeping. His mouth was open, showing off his slightly crowded teeth and accentuating just how plump and kissable his lips were and Kim could barely resist. Gabe wasn't aware of how gorgeous he was, how pretty, and nothing Kim said ever seemed to convince him. No, Gabe would shrug it off, blush and shake his head and look at his feet and claim she was the only beautiful one in their relationship, but Kim would convince him one day. She was well aware of her own beauty. She'd got lucky with symmetrical features and rose bud lips and high cheekbones and nice skin and a nice body, but really, it was all just a bit obvious. She'd rather have a face and body that had some character and interest, like Gabe’s did, and she was working toward it. 

A week ago she'd talked Gabe in to piercing her nose and lip for her and while each puncture of the needle had been eye wateringly painful, she'd loved it and had fucked him hard to say thank you. She'd bleached and dyed her hair, painted her nails, and was saving up for her first tattoo, once she'd paid for her uni books of course. She'd had second thoughts about her degree; third and fourth and fifth thoughts as well, but Gabe had asked her to give it a go. 

'Learn, grow, make new friends,' he'd told her and Kim had agreed eventually. She could always change her mind if it wasn't her thing. Her parents had wanted her to go in to engineering so she'd picked English literature and creative writing, naturally.

Glancing again at his sleeping form Kim rolled herself over until she had straddled Gabe's narrow waist and pressed her chest against his. From this angle she could see the love bites on his neck, some faded to yellow and brown, others still purple and the newest, last nights work, red and wicked looking against his skin, even beneath his scruffy stubble. She loved doing that, dragging the pleasure as close to pain as she could and watching the way he just surrendered himself, laughing and gasping with his eyes squeezed shut, and his chest heaving and flushed, and beyond beautiful. Just thinking about it made her want to do it again, right that second, but she wasn't about to molest him in his sleep, at least not any more than she already was, so nuzzled her face against his neck instead, pressing gentle kisses to his skin and whispering in his ear.

"Gabe," she crooned, "wakey-wakey sweetness. Rise and shine, Gabby."

He didn't open his eyes but he did bring his arms up to circle around her waist, squeezing her tight and humming contentedly. He was grinning sleepily and Kim pulled back to really take in his early morning peace. Gabe wasn't the most comfortable person and it was rare to see him so relaxed. He'd often told her that his skin didn't always sit right, that the world seemed just a bit too intense and that people in general were a mystery he just didn't understand, which all boiled down to a lifetime of anxiety and low level terror. 

Even his occasional fits of temper were more a way of coping with the fact that for Gabe the world always seemed to be beating at him until he broke and when that happened the best thing to do was to simply hand him things he was allowed to throw and break, which was why they'd bought up all the cheapest crockery from the op-shop down the road. When needed she spent the night sitting on the kitchen counter with a beer in hand and a stack of plates by her hip, handing them to Gabe as he needed and watching to see when he'd reached the point of exhaustion. He was never in the mood for sex on those nights and Kim didn't push, just like she didn't push if she noticed cuts on his thighs, and he didn't mention cuts on her arms or how much of their cash was spent on booze. Neither of them was perfect, or even close, but she preferred it that way and had no intention of changing.

"Mm," Gabe hummed sleepily, running his rough hands over her smooth skin. "Is there a reason I need to wake up this early when I've not got work today?" 

"No," Kim replied with a kiss. "I just missed you, wanted you. Ya know, the usual."

"Well that is important then," he nodded, eyes still closed to the day. "Cos I missed you and all."

"Even in your sleep?"

"Even in my sleep," he agreed, teeth poking through as he smiled.

Kim felt the laughter bubbling up inside her, the intoxicating joy of having someone in her life whom she honestly never wanted to run away from. She never wanted to leave Gabe's side, never wanted to stop kissing and laughing and playing dress-ups with this phenomenal human being.

"Can I play with your hair today?" she asked playfully, kissing and nipping her way to his ear. 

"If you let me do your make-up," came the reply with a soft gasp, and Kim loved that she could feel his breathing increase as she kissed him and rocked her hips down against his.

"Will you..." Kim tried to think of what she could ask. "Will you come and sit on the overpass with me tonight and play Snog-Marry-Kill?"

"If you like. Can I wear your t-shirt?"

"Yup. Will you... promise to never leave me? That we'll be together forever ‘til we die?"

Gabe opened his eyes at that, turning to try and gage Kim's mood before replying and looking at her - really looking at her - which he didn't do for anyone else. 

"Promise. Cross my heart,” he whispered seriously. “Together ‘til we die. Which will probably be when we fall drunkenly from the overpass."

He tilted his chin and she kissed him, feeling a warm glow spreading out from her chest as he deepened the kiss and hugged her tight. This was everything she wanted from life and as long as nothing changed, she thought, she'd be happy forever.

 

*


	5. Chapter 5

It had rained that morning and Gabe had thought that he had the perfect excuse for not going to parents group. He’d been confused by the feeling of disappointment at that, and tried to remind himself of just how uncomfortable last week’s session had been, and how useless it was to go back, even if he’d not spoken to a single person since and felt so close to giving up. He had just resolved not to go when he looked out of the window and saw that the clouds had cleared, and the sky was peeking through, all shiny blue and bright and hopeful. It made him itch to go outside and made him think he should go after all. 

He'd been pacing for a half an hour so far, trying to get it straight in his mind what he would do, but it just wasn't coming together. He wasn't good at being alone; he wasn't good at making choices and decisions, let alone good ones. And he was so tired he could barely think in sentences let alone put together a plan of action. He needed to ask someone what he should do but there was no one to ask. Unless he counted the baby.

He crept back to the pram to check on her but she was still sleeping sound. She never managed to do that at night of course. At night she cried until he picked her up, that watery, not-quite-there cry, and it didn't matter how much he rocked the pram or wheeled it around or made the shushing noises he'd seen other parents do, she would only stop when he picked her up and held her.

He wasn't sure why she liked it. Maybe she was just a natural born cuddler, maybe she was a night owl and wanted to be up and partying once the sun went down. Maybe she was just a tiny baby with minimal thought processing skills. However you looked at it Gabe just didn't get why she would want to be held by him. He was pretty sure he stank and that his skin was scratchy and his bony chest wasn't much comfort. But she was a baby, so there was no knowing why she did anything.  
Looking at her now Gabe tried to see any signs of Kim in her features but it was impossible to tell. She just looked like a baby. She looked like someone he didn't know and Gabe had always been skittish around people he didn't know. All he knew was that she wasn't the girl he wanted; wasn't who he'd wanted to bring home. She was just a tiny bald monkey who'd ruined the only real happiness he'd ever known. And he knew that wasn't fair but it was the truth. He had no idea how he was supposed to feel about her.

He was about to go back to pacing when he noticed she was beginning to squirm. He panicked, thinking she was about to start crying again, but then, as he watched, she gave a tiny yawn, her gummy jaw stretching wide, and a sweetly pitched squeak escaping from her mouth. Gabe felt his heart flutter suddenly and was overtaken by the desire to pick her up and hold her, which he had never felt before. He’d picked her up plenty of times but only because it was what he needed to do, never because he wanted to, but he couldn’t shake the feeling. It was like the baby had done something familiar, something he finally recognised, and he wanted to hold her close. And so he did.

As he lifted her carefully, mindful of her tiny nasal specs and feeding tube, the baby gave a sudden stretch, tilting her head to the side and bringing her arms out wide, her face scrunched in a tight knot of lines and pouting lips. Laughter bubbled up in him at the sight of it, at such a little display. It was achingly familiar. She'd have someone's eye out, stretching like that, his mind told him, and his lips pulled in to the barest of smiles. After holding the pose a moment longer the sleepy baby snuggled back down in to his arms, blinking up at him as if she wasn’t entirely sure there hadn't been some mistake. Like she didn't recognise him either. He held her like that, standing so still he almost forgot to breathe, watching the flutter of her eyelids as they closed again, then opened, and she let out a miniature sigh of contentment, her dark eyes squinting up at the oily mess that was his hair. He looked a right state, he knew, sleep deprived beyond belief, but she didn’t seem too fussed by his appearance.

The nurse had told him to try and sleep when the baby did but he knew he'd go mental if he tried to sleep to that schedule. The baby barely slept longer than an hour at a time and he could hardly sleep when he was holding her. There weren’t a lot of options really and he didn’t know what else to do. He was so tired his ears weren't even working like they were supposed to. His hearing seemed fuzzy, like his ears were stuffed with cotton wool, and he'd forgotten that his mattress was on a bed these days and had misjudged his ability to step over it in order to cross the room that morning and had banged up his shin as a result. He wasn't doing well.

Maybe, he thought, maybe Vivyan would have some ideas about convincing babies to sleep. Gabe had been thinking about him quite a bit over the last week and the guy certainly seemed to have the whole parenting thing under control. And he had a nice face, which was about the level Gabe was functioning at right then.

He put the baby gently back in to the pram and resettled the blanket over the top, hoping she'd be warm enough without his hoodie.  
Between nappies, formula, medication and the cost of hiring the medical equipment from the hospital Gabe had budgeted just enough of his money to pay the rent, which had left nothing for extras like cute, fluffy, baby blankets. Initially work had told him to take off as much time as he needed (unpaid time of course) but it had been five months and his boss had stopped calling to check in and Gabe had realised that his only income was the small parenting payment that came from the government each fortnight, and that it really wasn't enough. He had the blanket the hospital had given him and the donated premmie clothes but the winter had been a cold one and Gabe wasn't sure how warm any of the baby grows really were, especially as they tended to hang from the baby's tiny frame rather than hug it.

His own hoodie was worn but warm and he was loathe to take it off but knew for a fact that it seemed to keep the baby settled better than anything else and he felt his feet start up their pacing again as he tried to decide what to do. He'd been washing the baby clothes but his own stuff had taken a bit of a back seat and he really didn't have anything that was both clean and warm except...

He marched to the bedroom and opened the top drawer in the rickety, paint spattered, dresser and looked at the jumble of clothing within. He hadn't touched it in months. He hadn't wanted to disturb it, or take away any scent or magic, or something. Mostly he'd been scared.  
He carefully pulled out a black cardigan and a red and black knit top, remembering how the sleeves were long enough to cover his hands and scrunch comfortingly in his fists, and laid both items out carefully on the bed. He laid his hoodie down there as well; ready to put on the baby, but his t-shirt went on the floor. It stank.

It was cold in the tiny bedroom and goosebumps were pimpling his skin and making him shiver. But he didn't reach for the striped top. Instead he ran to the bathroom, set the tap running and grabbed the dwindling bar of soap. If he was going to wear these clothes he needed to be clean and he needed to do it fast.

His hands were usually the only parts of him that got the kind of intense scrubbing he was subjecting his armpits to now because he'd learnt, day after day in the hospital, that clean hands were important and something he could actually manage, but this was the first time he'd cared about the rest of his body. He even dug out deodorant, feeling another smile tug at his mouth at the sweet smell of it. He gave his face a scrub as well but couldn't bear to look up in to the cracked mirror in case the sorry state of his reflection made him change his mind about leaving the house.

At first the striped cotton against his skin made him want to cry, and then vomit, but he didn't let it happen, and pulled the cardigan on quickly, shuddering at the way it felt like a familiar, comforting hug. He'd feel better if he could get some sleep, he told himself as he wrapped his old hoodie over the wide eyed but quiet baby, and right now the only thought he could process was that Vivyan and the mums could probably tell him the secret of how parents slept.

*


	6. Chapter 6

"You know, I did wonder how you got your clothes clean."

Gabe stopped in the process of stuffing dirty laundry in to his backpack and looked at Kim in bemusement. 

"What did you think I did?" he asked, barely able to get the words out for how wide his grin was.

"I dunno," Kim shrugged. "That's the point. I've never even been to a laundromat before." 

"Fuckin' tourist," Gabe chuckled, shaking his head and going back to the task of collecting t-shirts and socks from the corners of the room.

Kim watched him as he moved about, dressed in one of her striped, long sleeve, tops and a pair of skinny jeans that really weren't. There were splatters of paint on them, and on his shoes, because he'd painted her portrait last night, on the underside of the overpass, covering the concrete with speed and grace and so much talent it made her heart swell. Gabe was an artist and she loved the way his fingers always seemed to have paint in the cracks and creases, stained around the nail beds. She loved that he could turn furniture left out on the side of the road as trash into colourfully spray painted pieces of art with such ease. She loved the intense look he got on his face when he was concentrating on his work and she loved that he could take a sketch he'd done on a napkin during his lunch break at work and turn it in to a masterpiece three metres high.

And she loved that he knew about stuff like laundromats because she genuinely hadn't thought about it until she realised she'd completely run out of clean undies. 

"I know what I want for my tattoo, by the way," she told him, stretching out on the bed with a yawn. 

"Yeah?" Gabe quirked an eyebrow at her. "It's not a picture of your dirty nickers is it?"

"No," Kim's eyes widened and Gabe sat down next to her with a grin at her enthusiasm. "But I damn well want that now! Seriously though, for my first one I want that picture you did of me, the one you did on the wall last night. I want that."

"You want a tattoo of your own face?" 

"I want a tattoo of the way you see me, which is better than my face. Because when you draw me..." she paused in the sudden seriousness of her emotions. "Because when you draw me, and paint me, it's like a love letter, or a poem. Like a sonnet, you know, where to most people it's like, oh yeah that's a pretty cool poem, it rhymes, it sounds good, whatever. But for those who're in the know, who've studied it and studied the author, and really looked at the words and images... it's more than just a poem, it's a declaration, and a piece of that person's soul etched out and preserved forever and," she glanced across at Gabe, who was looking at her with so much affection it made her blush. "What? What are you looking at?"

"You,” he told her softly. You're so fuckin’ smart. I love you."

"I want it preserved forever," she pushed on as her heart fluttered. "I want your declaration etched in my skin. Cos you know the council'll paint over your work eventually."

"Philistines," Gabe agreed, with a lazy grin, breathing slow and letting the silence settle like silt in the room before he spoke again.   
"Alright. Tattoos of your face then. I like it. Let's do it."

Kim hadn't meant to suggest that Gabe had to get a tat of her face as well but she couldn't say she wasn't pleased. She sat up behind him and began to kiss his neck, loving the gentle sweep of it, the way his shoulders sloped so perfectly, especially in that top, so that she never could resist running her hands along the lines of his body. She could write a thousand poems about Gabe’s beauty without even scratching the surface.

"You're so pretty," she whispered as she kissed his ear. "I love you so much."

He laughed breathily and arched his neck to give her better access.

"I already said yes to the tat, what else you want? Was gonna buy a bed frame but it can wait."

Kim laughed and gave his arm a light smack. "I don't want anything else you tart, I just wanted you to known how pretty you are. It's important."

He sighed in response and lay back amongst the tangled blankets, looking up at her through his thick, dark lashes, his black hair curling around his ears and accentuating his cheekbones and the delicate spider web pattern of scars that covered them.

"Prettiest girl you ever did see?" he asked, looking up into her face with a small, pleased grin. 

"The very prettiest girl," she agreed and watched his grin widen. "I love it when you wear my clothes. I pick them out with you in mind. Promise you'll never get boring and stop wearing pretty things?"

Gabe just smiled even wider but she knew it was a promise. She knew that smile too well to think it was anything else.

 

*


	7. Chapter 7

The anxiety was going to destroy him one day, he was absolutely sure of it, but Gabe really hoped it wouldn't be today because right now he was standing outside the ugly grey family health clinic, trying to talk himself in to going inside. He'd watched a few of the mums walk in from across the street before he decided to actually cross, and the baby had watched him the whole time with giant dark eyes in her little monkey face.  
And now he was standing in the street, watching the clouds get darker and staring at the damned door. Why had he decided to leave the house and attempt to be normal again? Why exactly had he decided to make a dick of himself? He was too tired to remember but now he had a choice of either turning around and probably getting caught in the rain, or sucking it up and going inside, where he'd no doubt spend the next hour staring at the floor and wishing he was invisible.

"Hello Gabriel, do you need a hand with the door?"  
Gabe jumped and span to look at the man walking toward him from the car park and felt a blush hit his cheeks like a punch. Vivyan looked even more attractive than he remembered, and just as tall. 

"Um..." he managed before his brain short-circuited and his mouth started opening and closing dumbly like a goldfish.

"It is Gabriel, right?” Vivyan blinked at him anxiously. “I haven't just yelled some random name at you, have I?"

"I's Gabe, actually," he mumbled. "Jus’ Gabe’s fine. Hello, Vivyan."

"Well I was close,” the man said with a flickering smile. “And Viv’s fine."

Gabe nodded and looked down, but the baby was still staring and it made him feel a little inadequate so he looked back up instead.

"So," Gabe said awkwardly, begging his brain to come up with something. "Vivyan. Viv. Like the ‘Young Ones’?"

"Yes," Viv replied in a droll, sing song voice, "like the ‘Young Ones’. Except aren't you a little young to know that program?"

"No one's too young for that program," Gabe grinned, "except maybe these two."

He raised his eyebrows at the baby in Viv's baby pouch and then the one in the pram and was rewarded with a surprised smile from the man looming above him.

"Mm, maybe not," Viv said with the smile still dancing around his full lips. "Carolyn and I, we'd had this plan, to not expose Emmy to television before she was two years old but…" he shrugged guiltily. "I may have already broken that rule. There are only so many nights I can just sit in the living room in absolute silence with a sleeping baby in my arms. I'd go insane."

"I know, right?” Gabe grinned back, not sure why he felt so excited save that he hadn’t spoken for a whole week. “I feel like I'm going nuts sometimes! But she doesn't even sleep. She's up all night. I feel like I'm in some sort of psych experiment about sleep deprivation!"

Gabe hadn't meant to say so much, or with such enthusiasm and it made him feel a little sick but Viv was really smiling at him now, all creased up eyes and bouncing shoulders, trying to purse his lips together to hide the fact that he was laughing in a way that made Gabe proud, a feeling akin to holding a mug of warm tea on a cold night.

The feeling of warmth increased when Viv loped ahead and opened the door for him, inviting him through with a flourish. They got inside just as the rain started and Gabe debated whether or not to mention it to Vivyan but when he turned to do so the mums from the group had already swamped him, all talking like they had known each other for years, blocking Gabe with their backs until he felt entirely locked out. The warm feeling completely evaporated and he felt stupid for thinking an intelligent guy like Vivyan would want him around, would want to be pestered with questions from someone as incompetent as Gabe. He’d been an idiot to even turn up.

The urge to just bolt was back with a vengeance but the rain was pelting at the door and windows and Gabe knew he was trapped. He opted for getting in to the meeting ahead of the others instead and parked himself in the same corner as the week before, checking on the oxygen canister and the levels to make sure everything was working properly, and double checking his bag for formula, pre-boiled water and syringes. The other parents were coming in by the time he’d run through his list of checks, carrying their babies and laying out blankets just the same as before, talking and seeming so sure of everything they did. Occasionally someone looked in his direction but Gabe kept his eyes on the ground, trying to hide the heat of his cheeks beneath his shaggy hair. God why was it so hard to just be around people?

"You look nice today."

He did his best not to jump but knew he probably still looked a little bug eyed when he looked up and saw the woman smiling at him tiredly. It was the mum who’d patted his knee the week before, the one who’d showed him the sort of kindness he’d forgotten even existed.

"Oh," he managed lamely as she ducker her head to try and catch his eye properly. "Thank you."

"I'm afraid I've forgotten your name," she said in a whisper. "I'm rubbish at names. I mean, I can remember all the babies’ names but I'm absolute rubbish at grown-ups' names. Sorry."

"It's Gabe," he told her. "I'm rubbish with names too."

"Alya," she informed him with a quick smile. "And Billy of course."

"Oh."

Gabe stared at the tube taped to the baby's face. He hadn't noticed it the week before but there it was, a nasal-gastric tube identical to his own baby’s, plain as day on the tiny, scrunched up face. And Gabe was staring at it like he’d never seen one before. Suddenly he felt like the worst kind of prick. He wanted to apologise but before he could there was a cry from the pram and he rushed to lean over it, hovering, torn between the need to pick her up and the crippling fear of what people would say. He pulled the sleeves of his top down over his hands reflexively and wrapped his arms around his waist as he leant in to try and shh the baby but it was no good and he could feel his own tears threatening as he felt people turn to watch.

"Pick her up," Alya said gently. "It will be alright, truly."

Gabe looked at the woman, her long dark hair in its thick plait, her kind brown eyes and sensible, plump face. She was probably telling the truth, he thought, or at least believed what she was saying. He wasn't sure about the other women in the room though, but knew he couldn't ignore it any more.

"Hey, baby girl," he whispered, sliding his hands carefully under her and lifting her clear of the pram, dropping the hoodie that had been serving as a blanket to the floor in the process as he concentrated on holding her just so.

She continued to cry as he held her to his chest, bouncing her gently, and only calmed when he began to whisper gently again, though she carried on making the sad, sobbing little noises he knew so well, and it made his heart ache. He tucked his head down to escape the notice of the group as much as he could as he told her again and again that there was no need to cry, and that he had her and was there and always would be. He didn't stop, even when the nurse entered and began her hellos and introduction to that week's discussion topic: sleep.

Gabe's head poked up at that but he made accidental eye contact with Vivyan in the process, sitting beside Cathy in the opposite corner. He blushed and looked away, hating how much the whole situation reminded him of high school but how at least at school he'd had one person on his side. Then again, Alya had laid out his hoodie on the floor like it was a proper blanket and was still smiling at him with only the smallest hint of pity. Maybe, he wondered, he'd found an ally after all.

As gently as he could, making double sure there was enough slack in the oxygen line and that the gastric tube wasn't caught on his clothes, he lay the baby down on the floor with the others. Even among premmies she seemed small and while the others were moving, kicking and turning their heads and even trying to roll over, only his was twitching. And everyone could see.

He tried to tell himself that it wouldn't last long, that she didn't always twitch, but it wasn't a comfort while it was happening. Even watching her while it happened was exhausting and disheartening and made him wish he’d never decided to leave the house and let the world stare at his baby. Beside her was Alya's baby, the same size though born before, tugging determinedly at the tube in his nose with one hand and waving the other around in the air like he was trying to say hello.

Gabe tried to ignore the other babies, and their mothers, a task which became a lot easier when Alya offered him her hand and he was able to hold it tightly as the group began to discuss what counted as normal and abnormal sleep patterns for infants under six months old.  
Across the room though, he couldn't help but watch Vivyan as he fiddled with the hem of his own baby's blanket and confessed that the lack of sleep was starting to really get to him. He seemed so uncomfortable admitting it, that things weren't perfect, and Gabe got that. Admitting you were failing when it was a whole human being at stake felt horrible. He would have liked to tell him so, that he understood that feeling of failure and being in way over his head, but Cathy beat him to it and he shut his mouth tight against the urge to speak when his opinion wasn’t wanted or necessary.

"I can completely empathise," Cathy told Viv, hand to heart. "My husband had to go away on business this week and I was on my own for the whole twenty-four hours and just, you know, not having anyone there who I could pass the baby to when I was tired was really hard."

"Yes," the nurse interjected. "Because having support people is really important and you need to be able ask your family and friends to help you out. Ask them to come over specifically so that you can go and nap. All those people who make those vague offers of help?" she asked and the group nodded. "Tell them what you need, get them to make you dinners so you have one less thing to do. Get them to pick up some groceries for you. These little things are actually really important and helpful and people really do want to help. So, why don’t we brainstorm? What else can family and friends help with?"

People began offering their own suggestions, telling stories of how their mother-in-law was picking up their laundry for them, how they'd started making to-do lists for their husbands, and Gabe could see Vivyan getting more and more disheartened, bringing his arms in close to his body, pursing his lips and focusing his attention on the baby before him rather than the room. 

Beside him Gabe heard Alya whisper: "God I hope she doesn't ask me..." at which moment, as if she'd heard, the nurse turned to the two of them with an encouraging smile.

"And what about you two? You've got added complications with your little ones, which isn't uncommon with prem babies but does make things even trickier, and makes having a support network in place all the more vital.”

"Um..."

Gabe could hear the wobble in his voice. The baby, his baby, had finally fallen back to sleep, worn out by the shaking and constant movement of her tiny body, though her legs were still twitching, and just looking at her made Gabe feel doubly exhausted.

"Well I don't actually have a lot of family here," Alya spoke up, and Gabe squeezed her hand as he heard the catch in her own voice. "Mostly they're still in Turkey. And my husband... he hasn't really wanted to have much to do with Billy. He's at work mostly and when he's home he just refers to Billy as 'the baby' and doesn't seem very interested. His mother tries to help but she can be a little… pushy?"

In the silence Gabe gave in to the urge to wrap his arm around the woman beside him and hug her tight. It had been so long since he'd hugged anyone and he'd missed it desperately and his heart hurt to hear Alya's words, and not just how hard she was finding things at home. The baby. Gabe had said the same thing, thought of his daughter as such every day since her birth. He rarely called her Frankie out loud or even in his head. He always just thought of her as 'the baby'. But he didn't want to be the sort of father who resented his child; he didn't want to be that man, that person.

Alya eventually relaxed in to his embrace and was rubbing his knee like she'd done the week before, and Gabe practiced taking deep breaths as he held her, to block out the murmurs coming from the other mothers and to try and focus his mind. Something was clicking in his brain and he didn’t want it to get lost in the fog of sleep deprivation. It was important, too important to let slip away.

Francesca Kimberly Perez. Francesca Kimberly Perez. His daughter Francesca. Frankie. It was the name they'd agreed on, the one he'd agreed to because it sounded beautiful coming from her mouth, in her voice, but he'd rarely used it. Frankie, he repeated, looking down at her small sleeping form. Frankie.

"Gabe?"

"Hmm?"

The embarrassment of realising he'd been asked a question flared through him but the nurse was still looking sympathetic.

"Do you have anything in place? Family? Friends? People to help?"

He considered lying but couldn't really see the point, and his brain couldn't even come up with a gentler way to answer.

"No. It's just me an’ Frankie,” he mumbled. “I don't have parents, and my gran died two years back."

"What about the baby's mother?" someone asked, and Gabe saw the nurse’s eyes widen as she remembered the secret that hadn't been told, the pity hitting him like a kick to the ribs.

"Her parents didn't want anything to do with us,” he explained as best he could. “Not me, not her. Not me and Frankie. So it's just the two of us now. Me and Frankie."

The silence was thick and uncomfortable now and Gabe gave Alya's back a gentle rub before leaning forward to gather his daughter in to his arms. It should have been horribly depressing to admit to a room of relative strangers that he was so alone but he couldn't feel anything but a tight, aching sort of joy. Because he wasn't alone. It was him and Frankie. His twitchy little monkey and her out of place dad, together against the world. And he wanted to find a way to make it work.

*


	8. Chapter 8

"Gabby?" Kim asked playfully, swinging her legs from her perch on the kitchen bench.

"Yes?" He replied in the same tone, opening the tin of tomatoes and pouring them in to the saucepan with the cooked pasta.

"Um..."

He turned to look at her, the flush in her cheeks and intensity of her gaze. She had something to tell him, something important, even if she was pretending it wasn't. He knew her. There had been something building for a while, over the summer and autumn months and she was finally ready to let it out. He tried not to let his nerves show so that she wouldn't back down from it, but it was a hard thing. Kim was so intelligent that it was hard to keep up with where her brain went sometimes.

"Um's what I say," he told her, stirring their dinner. "What's the matter?"

"Well," she tried again, and Gabe knew it had to be big if she was taking her time like this and not just blurting it out. "You know how sometimes you say you don't always feel like a man? And you don't mind me calling you Gabby and my girl and pretty and all that?"

"Yeah," Gabe said cautiously. He ran his hands over the over long t-shirt he was wearing and looked down at his bare legs and feet, wondering what Kim could be so nervous about. He switched off the stove so that he could stand between her legs and concentrate properly on her words, nibbling on his lip. "It's more than not minding, I like it. Thought you did too."

"I do! That's just it," she replied. "Because sometimes you feel like a girl and you're brave enough to admit it and act on it and it doesn't change who you are it's just part of who you are and its part of why I love you. And I..."

Gabe wrapped his arms around Kim’s waist and leaned in until his head was tucked against the crook of her neck, letting his mind drift as her small, delicate hands drifted over his hips and waist. He was the stress head of the two but Kim was the one who overthought things. Gabe had a slow brain, he knew, but he appreciated people who had quick brains and knew how to use them. Kim was quick, but sometimes she ran herself in circles.

"I love you," he told her, kissing her collarbone gently. "I love when we dress up to match. I love that you're androgynous and that you keep people guessing 'bout what's in your pants." She laughed at that and tilted her hips against his in reply. "And I love that sometimes you're a boy. And if you need to be a boy more of the time?” he shrugged, “I love that too. I get it. It's cool."

Kim grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss that was urgent and fierce and seemed to be filled with more emotions than Gabe could count, and he happily let it happen. Even when he knew their dinner had gone cold. He did insist on putting the lid on the pot before he let himself be dragged to the bed but that was as far as his protests went.

"God I love you," Kim gasped, sliding her hands up his thighs and under his t-shirt then swooping in to bite his neck as he gasped and arched his back.

"I love you too," Gabe responded when he had breath, letting his arms fall above his head as his shirt was rucked up and his pants were peeled down. "You're the best boyfriend a guy could hope for. Do what you need to do; I love you. I'm yours."

*


	9. Chapter 9

It was still raining when the parents group ended and there were groans from everyone at the thought of running through the car park and babies getting wet, and Gabe stared at the storm with his lips pulled in and arms wrapped firmly about his waist, digging his fingers in to his skin until the pain brought the little bit of calm that he needed. Frankie was back in her pram, sleeping again now that her belly was full, twitching and making those little gaspy noises she sometimes made. The ones that fair gave him a heart attack when he woke up to them in the night.

He could put his cardigan over her, he supposed, but it was a bit thin and probably wouldn't keep her dry. He could wait until the rain passed but there was no guarantee that it would pass before the centre had to close and he couldn’t bare the thought of being told to leave and being a burden. The nurse had been acting like a mother chook from the moment she saw the rain and had told him not to rush and to stay put for a bit while she made him a cup of tea. He decided that didn't mind waiting for a little, especially since, one by one, the mums were braving the rain and running to their cars until it was only he Alya and, surprisingly, Vivyan left in the health clinic waiting room. Alya programmed her number in to his phone while they waited and he sent her a text to give her his and soon the nurse returned with a tray that held mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits for the three of them. Gabe hesitated but she thrust the plate at him adamantly.

"Take some,” she ordered. “I've seen your kitchen, and you need some fat on you."

His cheeks burned but he took a pair of vanilla crèmes and dunked one in his tea, mumbling a thank you. Vivyan was struggling with his own tea, not wanting to bump his mug on Emmaline, who was strapped to his chest, and not wanting to drop crumbs on her either. Alya was struggling too, attempting to breastfeed and hold her drink at once but gave him a pleading look, which he took as a cue to hold her tea for her. 

"Thank you," she said softy, resettling herself with a sigh and a frown at the tiny baby in her arms.

"Not a worry," he replied and then, after a moment of thought added, "is it tricky to do that with his nasal tube in?"

Alya nodded vigorously, leaning towards him as she spoke, as if sharing some secret. "I feel so but the doctor disagrees. I mean, how can he breathe when his mouth is full and he's only got one nostril? And he doesn't like my boobs at all," she continued wryly. "He never has."

"Maybe he's just not that sort of boy," Gabe grinned cheekily, loving that she smiled back.

He hadn't had someone to joke about with for the longest time and he'd decided he liked Alya. She was the sort who'd been a mother long before she actually became a mum, he reckoned. Generosity and love were her nature and it was nice making her smile.

"I'm still supposed to try every meal time though," she sighed, "even though all he does is fuss and make a mess, just look!"

Gabe looked where she nodded, at the baby and breast both covered in milk and the tiny, frustrated look on Billy's face.

"Poor little guy," he murmured. "Why can't he just use the tube? That's what it's there for." Frankie’s doctor hadn’t suggested he try to bottle-feed. Frankie’s tube was going to be a fixture until such time as she could have a more permanent feeding peg put in. They were on the waiting list, Gabe had been told, because it wasn’t urgent, but there hadn’t been any talk of trying to wean her off of it.

"Doctors," Alya said with a roll of her eyes, her huffed breath jolting Gabe back to the present. "They didn't want us to go home with the tube but eventually it needed to be done. He won't suck, he lacks muscle strength, and I say, well he's been through a lot, he had a bleed in his brain. But they still want him to 'progress normally' as if that's more important than him being happy and well fed, however it can be managed. Oh, it makes my blood boil."

"Wow," Gabe said with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Sorry. It just makes me so mad. I'm a third year immunology student, I'm not an idiot."

"You don't need to apologise," Gabe reassured her, putting down both their mugs so that he could help her readjust her clothes and set up the tube feed so that Billy could actually be fed. "I think it's well impressive. Dragon mama, protecting her baby."

"Well, sorry for shoving my boob in your face before,” Alya shrugged. “I lost my shame somewhere in the NICU, I think."

Gabe laughed at that and passed her tea to her in exchange for the syringe of formula, holding it steady just as he did for Frankie.

"Nah, don't fret about that. NICU did the same to me I reckon. A boob's a boob and babies need feeding. Just our two are going their own ways about it."

He hadn't been expecting her tears but it made a change to be the one comforting rather than the one crying and he pressed his head to hers by way of a hug since neither had any hands free, feeling an ache in his chest that, for once, didn’t make him feel empty and alone.

"Can I help, at all?"

Gabe had completely forgotten that Vivyan was still there and blinked in surprise at the way the fidgety man was shuffling from foot to foot, hovering like he was desperate to join their conversation. He looked sincere and Gabe couldn't deny there was definitely something about the man that his brain was attracted to, but he just couldn't seem to figure him out. Was it only ok to talk to Gabe when there weren't other people around? Was he only acceptable company when Viv didn't have anything better? He didn't know and it was making him anxious and frustrated and cross.

"Yeah,” he said as his brain sparked back to life. “How d'you get your baby to sleep?" That question had been one of his reasons for even showing up after all. "Frankie doesn't sleep at night. She thinks every nights a rave. What do you do?"

"Oh." 

Gabe guessed that he'd been expecting something like, 'Can you pass the tissues?' instead but he quickly sat down, closer to Gabe this time, so that their knees pressed against one another’s, with that purse lipped look of concentration on his face, though he did pass Alya the tissues as well, to wipe her eyes.

"Billy sleeps if I'm holding him. My husband hates it," Alya admitted mournfully and Gabe nudged his head comfortingly against her shoulder by way of a hug.

"Well he seems like he needs a good kick up the bum then," Vivyan said, only to look up, eyes wide and utterly mortified. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I don't know where that came from."

"From your mouth I reckon," Gabe smirked, looking up at the man’s furious blush.

"And your heart," Alya added more kindly. "But it's alright. Things haven't been right between us for months. He thought I'd give up my degree but I want to go back next semester, for the sake of my sanity if nothing else. There's only so much late night television I can watch with a sleeping baby in my arms before my brain turns to mush."

"Same," Viv nodded. "But it might be worth a try, Gabe, so you're not just pacing the house in silence. A lot of babies seem to like background noise and the telly’s as good as anything."

"Um," Gabe mumbled, feeling vulnerable that Vivyan had seemingly guessed about his pacing. "I don't have a telly, actually."

“Oh.” The look Vivyan gave him was priceless, his pink lips parted and eye lashes fluttering as he blinked furiously and blushed. It just about made him grin and forget to be scared and he wondered what else he could say to elicit the same reaction. "Ok, well how about the pram?" Vivyan suggested, taking the request for sleeping tips as a serious mission. 

"What about it?"

"Well, she seems very comfortable in it,” Viv explained in a reasonable tone. “So maybe you could try putting her in there at night, instead of the cot, so she can have movement as she drifts off? You could even take her for a walk?"

"Yeah," Gabe replied slowly, wondering if it would be better to lie. Then again, he had asked for advice and needed all the help he could get. "Thing is, she already does sleep in there at night. I don't have, um, I don't have a cot or anything."

He knew they'd judge him, knew they'd pity him, but it was just about worth it to watch Viv's eyes nearly pop right out of his head. It was confirmation that Vivyan was a snob, and Gabe was a little disappointed that they wouldn't be mates, because he hadn't had a guy friend in a really long time, but a hot cup of tea and two sweet biscuits had done wonders for his brain and he didn't want pity. He'd been poor his whole life, it was nothing new, but it was clearly new, and distressing, for Vivyan. 

"You don't have a cot?"

"Nope." Gabe grabbed another biscuit and crammed it in to his mouth. 

"It's a very western thing, a cot and a baby room and all the other accessories," Alya suggested. "My parents had me in their bed with them until I was two apparently, and that was normal."

"Yes, but," Vivyan frowned at them both in confusion. "But it's not a cultural thing here. Gabe, could you not afford one?"

"There wasn't one for sale at the op-shop, that's all. Just the pram. It's no big deal, and it doesn't affect you. We get by."

"It's a big deal if you don't have money for necessities," Vivyan countered. "You're a young single parent and you've apparently got no one to take care of you and you're using a ratty jumper as a baby blanket and you look about twelve!" 

"I don't need anyone to look after me," Gabe jumped up striding over Frankie and kicking the pram brakes off with more force than was necessary, feeling indignation boiling through his veins. "I'm fine on my own. Frankie and me, we're fine. We don't need your pity. We don't need anything."

He didn't know why he was suddenly so angry, only that he wanted to make a swift exit. But he barely made it a step, which only added to the frustration that was burning hot in his chest.

"Oh good, you're still here, Gabe," the nurse bustled in, oblivious to the tension in the room. "I've organised a baby seat for my car, and some bread and milk for you as well. So I'm taking you a Frankie home, okay?"

Gabe tried to fight down the shame and anger. This was why it wasn't worth trying to get to know new people; it just led to horrible, embarrassing situations and people finding out without any shadow of doubt, that he was stupid and not worth knowing.

He turned back to Alya, who gave him a sad smile by way of goodbye, and looked at Vivyan for a moment, but only one, because he looked so furious and so confused, that it pulled at Gabe's heart in the worst possible way.

*


	10. Chapter 10

"So Kimbo," Gabe asked as he pulled down his mask and stepped back to examine his work. "What pronouns should I be using? He, she, they, ze? What tickles your tassels my love?" 

Kim grinned at him from her seat on a rusted petrol drum but as the question sunk in the grin dropped and she found herself frowning, her tongue flicking against her lip ring as she mulled it over.

"She, I think. Or they. I like they. I don't really know. It changes a lot and I'm not sure..." she huffed at being so unable to articulate herself and focused on Gabe's latest piece of art instead. Somehow he'd managed to make it appear as if the concrete wall was falling away and that behind it was a brilliant blue sky and a rainbow peaking through receding storm clouds, and it made her heart sing to see it. He'd muttered about it being too obvious and trite as he'd sketched it out but she was glad he'd kept at it. Somehow he'd made that sky seem more real than the slab it was painted on, and it was a work of genius. "How," she asked tentatively, trying to form the thought as she said it aloud. "How do you think of yourself? What pronouns do you use in your head when you're say, dressed up in one of your pretty tops with your make-up on point and that?"

"You mean the opposite of now?" Gabe grinned at her, rolling his eyes to emphasise the smudged, day old eyeliner, and she nodded earnestly. "Well... I don't know. I've never really thought about my pronouns much. There are varying degrees of girlishness and that; I like being a girl. But I like being a ‘he’ as well. Mostly I guess, when I think of myself, I'm just a," he glanced at the mural before continuing, narrowing his eyes at the colours like he was seeing something she couldn't. "I guess I just think of myself as a bisexual, gender queer, cave troll."

He shrugged at her and pulled his mask back over his face as he went to his pack to choose another colour.

"Your preferred pronoun is cave troll?"

"We trolls don't tend to overanalyse things like gender," he shrugged, "but I want to get yours right if I can." 

She couldn't help but laugh at how sweet his smile was, though it was hard to believe someone as complex as Gabe didn't think overly much about things like gender and pronouns and all that, especially since he'd been the one to bring it up. 

"Well for me it changes," she told him just a little sulkily. "Can't I just tell you each morning which it is?" 

"Yeah," Gabe said over his shoulder as he added some extra shading to the crumbling concrete. "Hey we should get badges and all! That’d be awesome!"

Kim liked that idea, it seemed very punk, and she loved the fact that Gabe was so relaxed and encouraging about the whole thing.

"You're really ok with this aren't you?"

"Of course," he told her, stopping the spray of his paint can to turn back to her, tugging down his mask and to grin at her as wide as ever, crowded teeth peaking cheekily over his bottom lip. "Can't wait to brag that I've got a girlfriend and a boyfriend."

"Who are you going to brag to, Gab, you're a hermit," she responded but he just laughed.

"Nonsense! I brag about you all the time when I'm stocking the frozen section. The peas and corn love hearing what you're up to."

He pulled a face before going back to his work and Kim could just imagine him chatting away to the frozen veg at work, but she did worry that he was becoming a recluse. He hadn't stayed in touch with anyone from school (not that she blamed him) and he didn't make friends easily. He'd urged her to try uni and make new friends and she was enjoying her course more than she'd thought possible now that she was learning for the love of it rather than by rote and creating things rather than just quoting the works of others, and she'd made friends too, and life was fun. She wanted Gabe to feel that happiness too.

A few months ago she would have only wanted Gabe to be happy with her, but things were changing, and while she still wanted him to be happy with her she also wanted him to be happy in the world. He was talented and thoughtful and it hurt that he seemed to think that stacking shelves in a supermarket was the best he could do.

She jotted down a few notes in her journal, ideas to use in her end of semester poetry assessment, and looked back at the man dancing in the shadows, creating illegal beauty with a spray can. So much of her writing was about Gabe in some way or another. He was her muse and she wanted the world to see his beauty. She wanted Gabe to see his beauty.

*


	11. Chapter 11

"Please don't hang up on me," came the soft, lisping voice through the phone.

Gabe was tempted to do just that, except that the guy'd said please. Still, he really wasn't keen on a conversation. He'd spent the morning at the hospital being told by all of Frankie’s doctors that they suspected all sorts of things but had no way of diagnosing them yet. It had worn him down and worn him out and he wasn't keen on talking on the phone at the best of times.

They'd taken blood. Too much blood, Gabe thought, from such a tiny person, and it hadn’t seemed fair. Frankie had cried and gotten the shakes, which they insisted weren't seizures, just 'shakes' and they'd run tests on her lungs, hoping for the best only to shake their heads sadly when the results came in to say that she still wasn't getting enough oxygen on her own. Gabe could have told them that, that she wasn't improving, but the paediatrician surprised him when she smiled.

"She's definitely watching me," she said. "There's a clever little human being in there." A week ago he wouldn't have known how to feel about that statement. It would have seemed meaningless. Now he felt proud because his daughter was doing her best. He smiled down at the floor. "And she's gaining weight," the doctor continued. "She's what, five months now? Two months corrected?" 

Gabe nodded. “Twenty-six weeks.” 

"Is she smiling yet? No? Give her time; she'll get there. You're doing an excellent job."

“What?”

Gabe couldn’t help his mouth dropping open at that. It wasn't something he'd heard in his life, about anything. He sat on the plastic chair, hands pressed between his thighs, looking at the rubber peeling from the side of his shoe, too terrified to look up in case the comment had been sarcastic and really the doctor thought he was an idiot - no, knew he was an idiot.

"Gabriel," she said carefully, coaxing his eyes up to her face. "Frankie's mum would be so very proud of how well you're coping. Can you see how much she's grown? She'll be needing bigger clothes soon. Normal baby sized clothes," she smiled, but Gabe couldn't smile back.   
More clothes? Already?

"But you're all still thinking cerebral palsy, right?" 

"It seems the most likely," she nodded honestly. "Last month’s MRI certainly showed the sort of damage we’d associate with cerebral palsy. The other tests will help us rule out anything else. We can't know for sure yet, Gabriel, it’s a complicated process. But I’ll send off some referrals today and we can set you up with all the therapists you’ll need to guide you through and help Frankie as much as we can.” She huffed out a breath as she looked down at Frankie as she twitched in her pram, trying to kick her blanket off. “Try not to focus on it, if you can. Focus on holding her and playing with her and talking to her."

"She can't talk back though," Gabe answered, feeling foolish even as he said it, but the doctor just smiled sadly.

"No, but she can hear and she's learning about the world through you. The more you teach her, the more she'll know."

Gabe nodded but had to look away again. The urge to cry was too great and he just couldn't fight it. He was rubbish at talking. He either clammed up or lost his cool and eye contact tended to make his skin crawl, but he had to try. This was Frankie, his Frankie, and he wasn't going to fail her anymore.

He was going to be a good parent.

"Um, are you there?"

He blinked, his tired brain prompting him that he was supposed to respond when people called him on the phone.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "Vivyan. How'd you get my number?"

"Oh, well," he could practically hear the foot shuffling and the plump lips pursing through the phone. "I may have asked Alya. But only because I wanted to apologise. We don't really know each other and your financial situation and living arrangements, and everything else... it's none of my business. So I'm sorry. I've..." Gabe listened carefully to the way Vivyan's breath hitched. "It's been a really hard time. And Barb suggested that you and I might have stuff in common and, I mean, most of the ladies are lovely but I'm fairly sure at least one of them only wants me as a 'gay best friend', you know?"

"Yeah, I can see that," Gabe nodded. "And you know, forget it. No need to apologise. I was being a dick. I just get defensive." Vivyan sighed and there was a pause as they both considered what to say next. "So, who's Barb?"

"The nurse," Viv said, sounding amused. "The one who drove you home."

"Right," Gabe grinned, glad that Viv couldn’t see how he was blushing. "Should've known that." 

"Yeah, probably."

The silence settled back over them but Gabe wasn't sure how to break it and figured, since Vivyan had called him, he probably had a reason for staying on the line.

"But, um, the other reason I wanted to talk to you was to... ask you if you wanted to go out for a coffee? My treat?" 

"Oh." 

Gabe stopped moving, realising that he'd been pacing again, wearing away the cheap carpet, and bit in to his thumb nail instead. He had no real reason to say no. Well, he was tired and he'd spent the last of his cash on bus tickets to and from the hospital but if Viv was paying then really he had nothing else to do. That and he'd been thinking over everything the doctor had said, about helping Frankie learn about the world, and Vivyan was probably an expert on that sort of thing. Probably had a whole wall full of parenting books. He could be helpful as long as Gabe could keep his cool and not stress out. It was terrifying, but it was probably terrifying for Viv as well. The guy was a right stress head. And they did have stuff in common after all.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "Alright. But it'll have to be somewhere near me. I don't have a car."

"No that's fine. I figured as much," Vivyan said with a huff of relief. "But do you know the Uniting Church down on Woodside Road? There's a place a few doors down, if-"

"Yeah I know it," Gabe grinned. "Give me an hour?"

"An hour," Vivyan said breathily. "An hour sounds perfect. Thanks Gabe. See you then."

Gabe's chest felt tight as he ended the call. Tight in a way that felt familiar but also vague, and he frowned down at his phone as he attempted to think it through. This feeling, it wasn’t like a panic attack, more like an adrenaline rush, a wild fluttering in his chest. It was like spraying colour somewhere he knew he might get caught, like going out in make-up for the first time, or letting your girlfriend-turned-boyfriend top you for the first time.

The shiver that ran down his spine at that memory made him grin, the heat creeping up his cheeks as images, words and sensations flooded his mind like hot water filling a bath. He hadn’t dared to think back for so long but the memory seemed a little less painful now, like a Polaroid memory rather than something in HD, and he let his smile grow as he breathed deep and wiped his palms on his jeans. He looked down at the t-shirt he was wearing. It had a hole in it. 

"Well that won't do," he told Frankie, who made a little O with her mouth and blinked at him. "Come on, Frank, you need to help daddy pick out an outfit. We're off to coffee with Viv and Emmaline and I want us to look a bit nice. What d'ya reckon?"

*


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sex.

Kim looked at his boyfriend. He always looked gorgeous in the moonlight, like a faerie or an elf, some sort of fey creature with his tousled hair and delicate features. Especially when he was wearing mascara and lipstick and his spider-web top. The black lace suited him and Kim leaned over to kiss his exposed shoulder, where the shirt had slipped. He felt like the luckiest human being alive. 

"You’re turn. Truth or dare," he asked, watching the way Gabe's face fluttered from a playful grin to a thoughtful seriousness. 

"Truth," Gabe told him, taking a gulp of his beer and gazing down at the cars whizzing beneath them.

"Ok," Kim thought what he could ask before smiling wickedly. "If you could be topped any guy who would it be?"

"Anyone?"

"Anyone. Alive or dead. Just no zombie sex, don’t make it weird. They're alive in the fantasy and you've got a time machine or something."

"You," Gabe answered without a pause, glancing at him sideways. "Gotta be you."

"No, that's cheating," Kim groused. "Has to be someone other than me 'cos I can't follow through. I'm a boy today, but who knows about tomorrow."

"Whereas, what? Shakespeare can follow through? Is that a more realistic answer," Gabe laughed. "I thought the whole point was that it could be anyone, dead or alive, my choice."

Kim huffed at him and rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t about to be put off his favourite game.

"So Shakespeare then?" he asked after a moment and loved the way he could see Gabe's blush, even in the darkness. "What's that about?"

"You said anyone. And it's you, isn't it?" Gabe replied, glancing over again, still shy even after so long and so much. "You talk about him, read me his poems, his sonnets, and all his other stuff. Beauty, grief, the absurdity of life. If I'm not allowed to have you top me he's probably a decent substitute. He seemed pretty open to the possibility of a girly boy like me in his bed. And his writing's nearly as good as yours."

Now it was Kim's turn to blush. Gabe was always saying he was no good at talking but he always knew just what to say. No amount of praise from his teachers or Dean’s Awards could compare with the truth when Gabe spoke it. He understood beauty, and Kim trusted his judgement.

"Fuck, love," he sighed, sniffing loudly to fight off the emotions rising in his throat. 

"I think I already told you I was up for that," Gabe replied, his voice turning deep and husky and setting Kim's body on fire with a deep, aching want. A want that doubled when he glanced across and saw the way Gabe was biting his lip.

"Yeah, but-"

"But there's a sex shop two blocks down and I got paid today and there are ways, sexy man of mine, you know there are." He waggled his eyebrows and Kim couldn't help but cackle, laughing loud and free in to the night sky.

"You saying you're gonna buy me a cock, Gabby?"

"It would be my pleasure to buy you your first cock, my love,” Gabe purred darkly, leaning toward him and allowing the lace of his shirt to slip further off his shoulder. “Just say the word."

Kim drained the rest of his beer and balanced the empty bottle on the edge of the overpass railing. He had no idea how he'd gotten so lucky. Sometimes he was convinced that Gabriel really was an angel because who the hell else would accept that he wanted to be a man one day and a woman the next, who else would help him improvise a binder with a pair of sports bras, and who else would be so willing and keen to let him explore what it meant to have sex with a man, as a man. Gabe was everything and Kim was giddy with affection, not to mention horny as hell. He jumped down on to the asphalt and held out a hand which Gabe took without hesitation and they ran and stumbled and laughed down the slope of the overpass and down past the church and the minimart, all the way to the shop with the garishly pink neon sign. 

Kim kept a close eye on Gabe in case he changed his mind once they were face to face with a wall of dildos and strap-ons but he only seemed fascinated, and amused, and let Kim pick what he wanted. He even grabbed a tube of cherry scented anal lube on their way to the counter. Kim was practically bouncing with excitement as the sale was rung up. 

The second they were outside the shop he grabbed Gabe by the shoulders, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him hard enough to bruise his lip.

"I love you, you know that, right? I love you so much it physically hurts and I'd do anything for you. You know that, right?" 

"I know," Gabe panted nodding frantically and trying to recapture Kim's lips. "So kiss me. Then take me home and fuck me?" 

Kim kissed him so hard he whimpered and it took all of his strength of will to pull Gabe away from the wall and down the dark side street toward their block of flats.

Everything got a little fumbled when they finally got there. They tried putting on music but it just made them laugh and then they'd had to go hunting for a pair of scissors and failing that a knife to get through the cardboard packaging on the toy. Neither of them really knew what they doing and Kim struggled to get his end in a comfortable position for the first few minutes.

"Ooh, it's got a vibrator in it!"

"You didn't know that when you picked it?"

"Nah," Kim gasped. "I mostly just picked it for the colour."

"Because everything goes with black?"

"Exactly."

He looked down at the bed and the way Gabe was laid out beneath him. Somehow Kim'd lost all of his clothes while Gabe had only lost his shoes and socks. That was no good at all. 

"You're overdressed," he pointed out and Gabe shimmied out of his jeans and undies faster than Kim had ever seen him do before but when he began to pull at the lace top Kim stopped him. "That you can leave on."

It was slow going and a little awkward at first but Kim found it was much easier if Gabe was on his back. The angle was easier; he had access to Gabe's cock and his neck and could watch him thrash about helplessly on the mattress, dressed in black lace and with lips so blood red he reminded Kim of a maiden from an old Dracula film, being transformed from an innocent in to a vampire.

His orgasm hit him in the groin like a shock wave but when he tried to slow down to ride it out Gabe whined, rocking his body desperately until Kim picked up the pace again. He thrust harder, loving the gasps and sighs and moans that were escaping Gabe’s lips as he fucked him. He swooped down to suck hard on his boyfriend’s neck, working his cock and feeling another orgasm building at the change of angle, and the desperate, needy sounds Gabe was making with increasing volume. They orgasmed together and Kim forced his eyes open, needing to see the moment, to preserve it in his memory forever.

Removing the dildo had seemed rather uncomfortable, if the odd little noises Gabe made were anything to go by, but he didn't complain, and as soon as Kim had freed them both of it and dumped it in the sink to wash later he was grinning blissfully, his lace top ruffled up around his nipples and spunk pooling in his concave belly. He looked edible and Kim's brain had been ready to ravish him again then and there, but his body had other ideas and he flopped down on the mattress feeling loose limbed and tired, pulling the tangle of blankets over them both as he snuggled in close, wrapping his arms around Gabe and slipping a leg between his two.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing Gabe's neck softly where he had bitten it.

"Me too," Gabe answered before breathing out a short chuckle. " I love you too, I mean. I love you. You make me so happy, so..."

Kim glanced over and smiled at his face, slack with sleep. He couldn't imagine life getting any better.

*


	13. Chapter 13

Pushing the pram through his old haunts was more difficult than Gabe had expected and he made the decision to take the long way round to avoid walking under the overpass, even if it meant being late to his coffee date with Viv. There were only so many memories and emotions he could take in one day. He did make a point of talking to Frankie about everything they passed however, even though it felt strange to be talking to a baby. She was staring up at the sky and occasionally at his face and so he told her about the sky, how it was finally blue for a change instead of grey and stormy, and how he loved blue because it seemed to resonate with people more than any other colour and evoked emotions that greens and oranges could only dream of. He'd even picked a blue t-shirt to wear, a long one that nearly hung to his knees and reminded him of long walks in the middle of the night because it was such a dark blue except for the slash of silvery, glittery fabric down one side. It had been his favourite for a while, because he liked the way it flowed and he'd pulled it from the drawer with disbelief, doubting how he could ever have forgotten he owned it. Frankie had seemed to approve and so he'd slipped it on, hoping it would give him some extra confidence.

"People go on about feeling blue, Frankie, like blue can only make you feel sadness, but you watch people's faces when they look at a wide blue sky. There's a whole poem of emotions in that blue. Same as the ocean. It makes people feel things and want things. It's powerful stuff."  
He pointed out buildings he'd tagged and painted as well and got excited when he realised an older piece, one he'd done while in high school, was still peeking through a mess of tags on the back wall of the chemist.  
"It's been clipped yeah," he told Frankie, "but that's still an impressive run time. Not a lot of artists round here anymore, just a few bored taggers. Makes me wonder how much of the other ones are showing. I'll take you on a tour of them some time soon. It's probably not a good parenting move but I've got to share some part of myself with you, right? I can't exactly tell you about make-up or hair. You don't have much yet, but it'll be dark when it grows. And I'm hoping silky straight and not grotty horsehair like mine. I was hoping you'd have your mum's eyes too but I think your eyelids are more like mine, though to be fair it's been a while since I looked in the mirror so who knows if I'm even remembering myself right. You've got your mum's nose though, small and squishy, but that might just be a baby thing. I really hope you get your mum's teeth though, Frank, ‘cos mine are shocking, look."

He grinned at her and realised that she was moving her mouth, like she was trying to copy him. It sent a shock through his heart, like it was being squeezed hard by a hand in his chest and he stopped walking and took a minute to calm himself before he rounded the corner and came in sight of the coffee shop.

Vivyan had just arrived. Gabe saw him get out of his car and rush around to the back passenger side, seeming all in a panic. Gabe walked slowly to see what he was up to, because he hadn't really seen Viv flustered, or imagined him so either, but the angry baby crying soon gave him the reason. Emmaline was red faced and crying so hard Gabe wasn't surprised when she puked up all over Viv's expensive-looking blue jumper.

He sped up then, to see if he could help, grinning at Frankie and telling her how they needn't have stressed about smelling bad because at least they weren't covered in vomit. 

"You alright, mate?" he asked when he was close and Vivyan jumped, spinning to stare at him all wide eyed, trying to calm Emmaline, wipe the mess off his jumper and put on his baby carrier all at once. 

"Not really."

Without a thought Gabe lifted the crying baby in to his arms, to give Vivyan a chance to sort himself out, and began to bounce her, though he kept returning his eyes to Frankie so she'd know she was really the only baby for him. Emmaline was heavy. She had a round little head and a roly-poly body that seemed ridiculous considering what a scarecrow her dad was, but she had the same pouty red lips and strawberry hair. If Frankie was a tiny monkey then Emmaline was a little piglet, he reckoned, but he wasn't about to say that aloud. There was no guarantee that Viv wouldn't take it the wrong way, and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted Viv to like him.

"How the hell did you do that?" Vivyan suddenly asked him, his jumper now wet from baby wipes but free of vomit. 

"Hmm?" Gabe asked, trying not to be distracted by the pretty curve of Viv’s cheekbones. 

"She stopped crying in, like, two seconds. She usually screams for hours once she gets like this."

Gabe couldn't tell whether Vivyan was really angry or not so he just bit his lip and shrugged.

"Just a fluke, mate."

"I'm not angry," Vivyan explained. "Frustrated and tired, and covered in baby sick - which is my own fault for trying to wear something nice - so maybe a little angry. But not at you."

Gabe looked up and wondered at the way the man was fidgeting and glancing at him and working so hard to breathe.

"You alright though?" he asked, looking up, trying not to seem threatening, which should have been simple given how much taller Vivyan was, but the man still jumped and looked away. 

"I'm fine," he said, turning back to Gabe and flushing an even deeper pink. "I'll be fine."

Gabe nodded and handed Vivyan his baby, then stood scratching the back of his neck and trying to figure out why it was now Viv being skittish when usually that was his shtick. Maybe it was the whole apology thing. Viv had been nervous about it and probably worried that Gabe would go storming off again in an immature little huff. He tried to give a reassuring smile but wasn’t sure that he succeeded because Viv just kept right on blushing and he tried not to stare because he didn’t want to be a creep, but it was hard work. Viv was more handsome than he had a right to be, especially when flustered. He took hold of Frankie's pram and began to head toward the coffee shop door to hide his own reddening cheeks but Vivyan hurried ahead before he got too far.

"Here, allow me," he said, his pale eyes catching Gabe's for another long moment. They were a very pretty blue, like shallow water when there were no waves to stir up the sand.

"Cheers, Viv," Gabe grinned, probably a little too enthusiastically, he thought, but it was hard to reel it in when his blood was fizzing and his heart fluttering at the smile he got in return from the other man.

The shop was quiet, too fancy really, for the suburb, though most things seemed to be going that way now, even the laundromat was for lease, but it at least meant there was plenty of space for the pram and both men found, once the coffee arrived - and cake, because Viv insisted - the conversation flowed more freely and with fewer awkward pauses.

"You know, I'll admit when I first walked in and saw you I thought you'd be a loud, crude, you know, 'Oi Oi' sort of person. And then you tried to talk and I realised you were just an awkward little puppy."

Gabe raised his eyebrows, enjoying the way Viv fidgeted excitedly whenever he did, which in turn made him smile wider and cock his head to the side. 

"Ah yes, well, common misconception about a lot of us punks and maladjusts. We dress hard to hide the soft, gooey centre. And I don't even dress that rough. People just look at me and assume. No matter how I look. I can step out in mascara and a peasant blouse, people still think I'm a dirty, little punk. And they’re right."

"That's quite a look," Vivyan said with a twitch of his lips. "But you do listen to punk music? As in the genre?"

"Oh yeah, all the way," Gabe grinned in to his coffee. Music was something he could talk about. Music was a conversation with boundaries and their conversation definitely needed some of those.

"Good," Vivyan nodded. "Because I wanted to say, um, the first day we met," he stopped to sip his coffee and Gabe tried not to stare at the flush in the man's cheeks, and the flutter of his pale, delicate eyelashes. "After I realised you weren't scary, um, I noticed you were wearing a 'Big Day Out' t-shirt. And I wanted to tell you that I was at that same festival. I have the same t-shirt in fact."

"No way!" Gabe smiled, tilting his head to try and catch Viv's eye. "I didn't have you pegged as an alternative rock kind of guy."

"Well I'm full of surprises," Viv smiled back, letting his eyes meet Gabe's for a beat before they both looked away.

In his arms Frankie was twitching and waving her arms about like a little robot and they both startled when she made a grab for a teaspoon and sent it clattering to the floor instead. 

"Oi, cheeky," Gabe admonished and Viv laughed and held out his finger for her to grab instead, which she did after a couple of attempts.

"How old is she?"

"Twenty-six weeks. Or five and half months," Gabe recited, "but two months corrected."

"It's so confusing," Viv shook his head. "Emmy's four months but also two months? And I'm supposed to think of her as four months but her milestones are on par for a two month old but she should catch up by the time she's a year? Ugh, I'm a late person, I'm chronically late. It's who I am, I don't understand the concept of early."

"You were early to the last parent group," Gabe pointed out and here Vivyan bit his lip and looked away.

"Yes, well, you know. I really wanted to..." he tutted at himself and looked up. "I wanted to try and say hello to you properly. Like I said, Barb told me to try, because she said it would be good for both of us. It's been... really hard since Carolyn died, you know?"

Gabe shivered but didn’t reach for his cardigan. He didn’t want to draw attention. "Yeah. I can imagine."

"And Barb said you're a single parent too and so I wanted to, I don't know, make a dad friend? But I am rubbish at male friendships. And male relationships in general. Platonic or otherwise. And I know I come across as a bit of a know-it-all and like I'm coping with the whole solo-parenting thing, but I'm not. I'm really not. I'm just... failing."

His voice cracked as he spoke and to Gabe it was the most natural thing in the world to reach out and take Viv's hand, to squeeze it and hold on tight and show him that he wasn't alone. Viv however looked at Gabe like it was an act of deep significance and Gabe wondered how a person who people fell in love with so easily, who was intelligent and witty, with a good job, and a fridge full of food and a house full of baby clothes and toys and everything a parent was supposed to have, could feel like he wasn't doing well. 

"When I woke up this morning I felt like the biggest failure in the world," Gabe admitted truthfully. "Frankie's body's just not doing what it's supposed to. They reckon it's cerebral palsy but it could be something else, no one knows at this point… and I've found it hard to even let people see her, ‘cos they're gonna stare and judge. Especially ‘cos, like you said, I look about twelve if I shave and a little runt with a sick baby... people judge. Or they pity. I hate both. But d'you know what Frank's doctor told me today? She said I was doing a good job." He let out a breath that was nearly a sob. "And that Frankie's mum would been proud. And I reckon Emmy's mum's probably thrilled to bits with how well you're loving her little girl. I mean... life is a bit shit. And it's never gonna be good like it was before, is it? But we don't have a lot of options, mate. Parents are supposed to be there for their kids no matter what, and my parents weren't there for me, but I'm damn well going to be there for my daughter."

He looked across the table at Viv and gave his hand another squeeze. He could see the man blinking back tears but didn't know what else to say to comfort him. 

"Thanks, Gabe," Viv said eventually, his voice husky and tired and lovely. "I really needed that. I really… like you. Thanks."

*


	14. Chapter 14

"Gabe! Gabe!"

Gabe appeared in the doorway in time to see Kim hurl violently in to the toilet bowl, gripping the plastic seat so hard their knuckles were white and their hands were shaking. They’d been feeling sick for almost three weeks, blaming it first on a hangover, then bad hotdogs from the church soup kitchen, then they'd said it was probably the flu, but Gabe wasn't sick, and he and Kim shared just about everything. He worried that something was seriously wrong but Kim refused to consider going to a doctor and he worried that now they wouldn't be able to get to one anyway. For five days they hadn't been able to leave the bathroom and called it a cruel irony because Gabe had finally saved up for the bed frame he'd wanted and now Kim couldn't even sleep in it. Gabe’d set up camp in the bathroom instead, making them a nest of blankets, couch cushions and pillows, bringing water and crackers, which Kim never kept down. He'd had to cut down his shifts as well, because the thought of being away from them for so many hours made him panic to the point of tears. But he needed to go in today, or there wouldn't be enough money for next week’s rent. 

"I'm sorry love," he told them, leaning down to rub their back, feeling the bones of their spine beneath his hand like a miniature mountain range. 

Kim hadn't had a lot of weight to lose before getting sick and it had Gabe scared. He didn't want to lose them. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with them, watching them bend the world to their will, watching their amazing brain grow and develop and flourish. He needed them to be ok. But he also needed to go to work.

"I feel like shit," Kim wailed, their breath coming out shakily and tears streaming down their face, irritating their normally pale and perfect skin to an angry red. 

"I know," he whispered. "I know. I'm sorry love. I'll be back as soon as I can ok? And I'll grab some more anti-nausea meds too ok? But I've gotta go, love. I'm really sorry."

Kim didn't answer, they just cried, leaning their face on the toilet seat like their head was too heavy to even hold up. Given how exhausted they were, and how raw their throat was, Gabe figured it probably was too heavy to hold up. He kissed their hair, feeling his own tears drizzling down the side of his cheeks, and walked out of the flat feeling like the worst human alive. 

At work he set to stacking shelves with determined focus, wanting to simply get through it and get home, but not wanting to think overly much about how Kim might be faring without him. He'd only panic and cry if he did that and he couldn't cry at work. So he focused on putting biscuits straight on the shelves and checking that there were enough boxes of corn flakes out - things he didn't need his brain for. 

At the end of his shift his manager Shane appeared with a clipboard and grin, wanting to know whether Gabe wanted all his shifts back or whether he still only wanted half.

"Better make it half," he mumbled, looking down to avoid the look of sympathy Shane was giving him.

"Your girlfriend still suffering from the first trimester blues hey?" 

"Huh?" 

"The good news is it dies down after the first twenty weeks. The bad news is it lasts twenty weeks!"

"Um..." Gabe shuffled his feet nervously, not quite following the conversation.

"Salty crackers will set her right though, you take my word. And don’t you worry. You'll be a great dad. No kid of yours will have to worry about their dad yelling at ‘em or belting ‘em. If anything, they’ll walk all over you! Congratulations, mate."

Gabe stood in the cool silence of the stock room as Shane walked out, trying to breathe and failing. He pressed his hands to his eyes until sparks began to flare in the darkness and counted down from ten but the tears came anyway and he couldn't stop them any more than he could stop the gasping, hyperventilating breaths, or the shaking of his muscles. He couldn't be a dad, didn't want to be a dad. He couldn't think of his own dad without wanting to hurl things at the wall. He didn't want to become that. 

But it made sense. Horrible, horrible, unspeakably dark and painful sense. But how would he bring it up with Kim?

He left work quietly, pulling his hood down over his face and hiding his hands in his pockets, sure that anyone who looked his way would be able to tell he'd been crying, but stopped outside in the fading sunlight, stuck on the edge of a decision. He wavered for a moment more before crossing the street to the chemist.

He tried to seem casual as he walked down the aisles but couldn't seem to find the pregnancy tests no matter how hard he looked and was starting to panic again, because he should have been home by now and, even though Kim probably hadn't noticed, he knew they needed him.   
Eventually, trying to breathe normally, he lowered his hood and sought out a sales assistant. 

"Excuse me?" he asked when he finally found a woman with a nametag who he vaguely recognised. "I'm looking for..." his nerve failed him, "anti-nausea tablets?" 

"Oh, sure," she replied, walking off across the store and not waiting to see if he was keeping up. "Vomiting and diarrhoea is it?"

"Just vomiting," Gabe told her. "They’ve been vomiting for a couple of weeks."

The woman turned to look at him, her eyes narrowed behind her glasses.   
"Your girlfriend?"

"Um," Gabe hesitated. “Yup.” He didn't like the way she was staring at him, like he was guilty of something awful. 

"If she's pregnant she should go to her doctor before taking any over-the-counter medications."

The pain in his chest was back again, pressing down in him and making it hard to breathe and think.

"I don't know if they’re pregnant," Gabe told her, wondering what made people over forty just assume a puking female was up the duff. "We haven’t been to the doctor. They can't stop vomiting long enough to get to one. I just need something to stop the vomiting."

"I'll get you a home pregnancy test as well," the woman told him, not seeming to hear the panic in his voice, "and some hydrolyte. If she's vomiting that much she's probably dehydrated. You can get it as a drink or icy poles. If she can't keep down a lot of fluid the icy poles are probably your best bet. But really you should try and get her to a doctor."

Gabe nodded and looked down at the armful of items she'd put in his hands. The hydrolyte at least seemed like a good idea. Kim needed something, though when he got back to the flat they tried to refuse it.

"Don't," they whined feebly as he attempted to put the icy pole to their lips. "‘M sleepy. Just let me sleep."

"It's important, love," Gabe urged. "Lady at the chemist said so. And she gave me this." He pulled the pregnancy test out of the bag and put it down in front of them.

The air in the bathroom seemed to leech away as they both stared at the pink box with its picture of a smiling woman proudly showing off her pee stick. Gabe hated her for being so happy when they were miserable but when he looked up Kim's anger wasn't aimed at the box. It was aimed at him. Their eyes were bloodshot and their hair, which was normally so silky and perfect, was hanging lank around a face completely devoid of colour.

"I don't want to do it," they croaked. "I don't want to know."

"Me neither," Gabe agreed, his throat tight and sore as if he’d been the one puking their guts up. "But we still should. I love you. And we'll work things out, whatever you decide."

Kim looked broken when they nodded, and it hurt so badly because they had worked so hard to built themselves up and be the person they wanted to be. The thought of losing that, of being forced in to a role they didn't want, made Gabe want to vomit, except that of course he couldn't. He didn't want to set Kim off again.

"I don't think I can stand to get to the loo," Kim told him and so he lifted them and held the stick in place as they pissed on it and then lowered them carefully back down in to the nest of blankets and cushions. 

He stroked their hair as they sobbed and sucked fitfully on the icy pole and eventually fell asleep, whispering that everything would be fine, that they would both be fine. Only when he was sure Kim was properly asleep did he pick up the stick to look at the horrible little plus sign that he had known would be there. Kim was pregnant, was growing a baby even though they had no way of supporting it, and he was going to be a father. He'd never felt more terrified in his life.

*

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

_'Thanks for giving Viv my number by the way.'_

_'I'm sorry! It seemed like the right thing to do!'_

Gabe huffed out a laugh into the cold night air. He'd been texting with Viv for most of the evening, and with Alya for about an hour, and it had done wonders for his mood. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so consistently cheerful for so long. Even though Alya had initially messaged him to say that Billy refused to sleep and her husband was slamming doors angrily in retaliation. It felt nice to be able to cheer her up. He'd been struggling to get Frankie to sleep as well, she'd been so restless, and in the end he'd decided to take her for a walk.

_'It was. It's fine. He's actually a bit of a sweetheart. He asked me out for coffee. We’re going to make it a regular thing, I think.'_

While he waited for her response he stared hard at the blank wall in front of him. He'd packed his spray paint on a whim, not really expecting to do anything with them but unable to fight the urge to bring them anyway, and now here he was, staring at the ugly, grey building and trying to visualise how he could make the pictures in his head work on the wall.  
Frankie was sleeping soundly, finally, under the new blanket Viv had handed to him after their coffee that day, and refused to take back. It had been such a kind gesture, and he’d been so genuine in his desire to help out in some way, that Gabe hadn’t been able to refuse.

_'He asked you out? You think he's sweet?'_

_'He gave Frankie a new blanket.'_

_'And you think he's sweet?'_

Gabe tried to figure out whether Alya was teasing but figured she probably wasn't.

_'Yeah. Why?'_

Putting his phone down he walked forward and ran his hand over the ugly cinderblocks. He wanted this to be beautiful, something that the building's owners wouldn't immediately paint over. He wanted to make a tribute and prove that there was still something of the person he used to be inside him. He wanted to paint.

He'd taken Frankie to see some of his other walls as he walked her around the neighbourhood, though not under the overpass. A few had been painted over, a few had been clipped, partially covered by tags and other art, but some had been intact, and it had been fuel for the fire that was growing within him.

He started with an outline; quick lines in basic black, sketching out the shapes and dimensions, stopping at regular intervals to check that no one had seen him. He couldn't afford to get caught, not with Frankie sleeping just a few metres away. He needed to get this right and he needed to be careful.

He stepped back to look at his progress, chewing his lip as he debated which colour to go with next, smiling at the familiar features looking down on him. But the grin slipped back in to a frown of confusion when he looked at his phone.

_'Love, I know we're new friends and all, and I don't want to pry, but you know that Viv's gay right?'_

Gabe snorted and picked out his favourite can of blue.

_'Yeah that was fairly obvious. So?'_

_'Well, he's been hovering around you and watching you and he asked me for your number and he asked you out for coffee.'_

Gabe read the message, blinked, and read it again. No, he thought to himself. No. No one had ever shown the slightest bit of interest in him aside from one and he'd put that down to the fact that they had been destined for each other. People didn't get crushes on him, people didn't ask him out; he was an ugly little troll with nothing to offer anyone. And Vivyan was sophisticated and intelligent and mature and really attractive. He could have any man he wanted with his plump lips and delicate features and that voice like marshmallows toasted on a campfire, smoky and warm but so deliciously sweet and…

_'oh'_

Alya's text came back at lightening speed and Gabe wondered how intently she'd been waiting for him to process the facts.

_'Are you ok?'_

Gabe whimpered, nibbling his lip and pressing his fingers in to the flesh of his waist as he wrapped his arms around himself.

_'not really'_

_'Gabe if you're not interested you need to let him know and you need to do it soon and nicely, ok?'_

Gabe shook his head. She had it all wrong.

_'No you don't get it. It's not that I'm not interested. At all. People like Viv don't fall for people like me, he's like a catalogue model and I'm bridge troll!'_

He put his phone back down and paced back and forth in front of the wall. The more he thought about it the more he realised that he'd been flirting with Viv, and that his heart had been fluttering whenever he made the man smile and that he really was sweet on the guy. But he couldn't let it happen. It was too soon, too much, not to mention ridiculous.

_'Is it because of Frankie's mum? Are you two trying to work things out?'_

Gabe stared at the message. He hadn't told Alya, or Viv, about what had happened to Frankie's mum but it seemed like the best lie. Because yeah, it was because of Frankie's mum, but not like Alya supposed. He couldn't bear to fall in love, couldn't dare it, after all that had happened. It felt like too much of a betrayal and he couldn't do it. He just couldn’t. He was supposed to love Kim forever, he'd promised, and he couldn't let himself get carried away with some crush on a guy who was so far out of his league it was laughable.

 _'Something like that,'_ he texted back. _'I really like Viv. He's a great guy but I just can't get involved with anyone right now. I'll try to let him down gently, ok?'_

_'Alright. I better get some sleep now. Talk to you soon?'_

_'Yeah. Sleep well. xx'_

_'You too. x'_

Gabe resisted the urge to throw his phone but only because he knew he couldn't afford to replace the thing and turned instead to the wall and its new mess of outlines. He needed to remember who he was. He needed to paint.

The music of the traffic and nighttime sounds seemed to have done the trick for Frankie, and he wasn't surprised, not really. It reminded him of the months he'd spent sleeping in the car with his mum when he was small. She'd been miserable but Gabe had found the traffic noise comforting and had struggled to sleep for weeks when he finally moved in with his gran. He should have known his daughter would be the sort to wander in the night and fall asleep to the city sounds. He checked in on her again, taking in the details of her peaceful, sleeping face, and then pulled his mask up and went back to work, shaking his paint can with renewed determination.

*


	16. Chapter 16

He'd waited another day before calling one of Kim's friends from uni to ask if she could drive them both to the hospital. He figured Kim would probably be mad at him but at least they'd still be alive to tell him off. He'd had to carry Kim in to A&E, shaking with fear at the thought that he’d be told he was stupid and to just go home again, but a bed had been brought the second they entered, rushing them to a small room full of machines and nurses. Kim had been so dehydrated the nurses had struggled to find a vein and Gabe hated watching them being used as a pincushion. The nurse and then the doctor had search for a vein for nearly an hour before going for the jugular because at least it was a vein they could see and all the while Kim’s eyes had been rolled back in their head, their skin like wax and their lips just gone, a dry line around a slack mouth. Then a mask had been put over their face and he could barely see them at all, couldn't find his Kim beneath the tubes and plastic and sweat and harsh lights.

He'd been bombarded with questions that he couldn't answer and it all just made his own shaking worse. He didn't know if Kim had any allergies, or any relevant medical history. The doctor looked at him suspiciously when he swore that neither of them was on drugs and that Kim hadn't attempted suicide. 

“They- she… she's just pregnant," he’d sobbed. "It's made her sick. Just make her better. Please?"

"She shouldn't be this dehydrated from morning sickness," a nurse had argued, securing the line in Kim’s neck. "How long has she been vomiting?"

"A week," Gabe told them, trying to stay calm and sound like he could be trusted. "Vomiting non-stop for a week but vomiting regularly for three weeks before that."

"And you're sure she's pregnant?"

"The test came back positive," he nodded. "I was there, I saw it."

There had been a look exchanged between the doctor and nurse that Gabe just couldn't figure out. He was too exhausted, and too scared, to make sense of any of it. Kim was hooked up to a computer screen and numbers and lines were flashing across it, one going up, one going down, but he didn't understand them. He just wanted them to make Kim better.  
Someone guided him gently to a chair, urging him to sit and then kneeling beside him. Someone else pushed a small cup of water into his hands and told him to drink and he did, even if he didn't see the point.  
"You're no good to her if you collapse as well," the nurse told him. "We've got fluids going in to her, to start rehydrating, and we've taken some blood, that'll tell us what's going on, alright?"

"They’re pregnant," Gabe repeated but she just nodded kindly. 

"Ok. But it's rare for pregnancy to cause such extreme vomiting and dehydration so we're just making sure there isn't some sort of underlying virus or infection, ok? But don't worry, we're taking good care of her and the baby."

Gabe wanted to tell them to hell with the baby. It wasn't even a proper baby yet, it was just a thing inside Kim, making them sick, but he couldn't make the words come. He wasn't even sure that anyone actually believed that Kim was pregnant, until they pressed something to their stomach and images appeared on the screen above.

He was aware that the doctors and nurses were saying things that were probably important, things about the age of the foetus, that it was small but definitely over two months, that it was stable but would need continuous monitoring. Gabe just stared at the thing. It wasn't even causing a bump in Kim's belly yet, and looked like a deformed frog, and it was destroying them. He didn't understand why everyone seemed more concerned about it than they were about Kim.

He watched dumbly as people rushed about, taking blood, hanging bags of fluid, strapping monitors to Kim’s stomach, talking too quickly and using words he didn't understand. Hours seemed to fly past and crawl all at once and he felt dizzy and sick and hot with not knowing what would happen. 

And when Kim finally opened their eyes, it was to look at him pleadingly, and begin vomiting all over again.

*


	17. Chapter 17

In retrospect, Gabe thought as he woke to the sound of Frankie's kitten cries, he probably shouldn't have spent quite so of the night working on the wall. The sun was barely up and he wanted to just roll over and go back to sleep but Frankie didn't like to be kept waiting so he rolled out of bed instead and stumbled the two steps to her pram, scooping her up and beginning to sway as he wished her good morning.

"Hey, cranky Frankie, settle your socks. What's the matter? You wet? Hungry? Just want to be out and about? All of the above?" 

He held her to his bare chest and laughed breathily as she scratched at his skin with her tiny fingers. 

"You need a bath I reckon," he told her, pressing a kiss to her head, "and I definitely need a shower. And then the day's all ours. Viv reckons if I don't have proper toys we should just lie on the floor and make faces at each other. What d'ya think of that? Sound like a plan for the day?" She pressed her open mouth to his chest in response and he felt his heart ache as it swelled with love. 

He took his time, pottering around the house with Frankie in his arms, dragging the oxygen behind him on its rickety wheels. As he stood in the kitchen, leaning on the counter with his coffee in hand, he noticed that Frankie was looking at the window and making shapes with her mouth again. He watched her closely as she wriggled, moving her lips and blinking at the sunshine as it made its watery way through the glass, and then, in the silence, she began to coo.

Gabe's eyes opened wide and he barely dared to breathe. She sounded like a little owl, he thought, making breathy hoots and hoos; and melting his heart in to a puddle.

"You want to go outside, Frank?" he whispered and she looked up at him, her eyes darting about, focusing on his eyes, then his mouth, then back again. "We'll get clean then we'll go sit outside okay? And you can tell me all about it."

Having found her voice Frankie didn't seem to want to do anything else and made her hooing noises all through Gabe's shower and her bath. Her legs were twitching so much Gabe had a hard time getting the clean baby-grow on to her and wondered suddenly what it would be like when she was bigger and even wrigglier, but figured he wouldn't worry about that yet. He wanted to enjoy her the way she was right then, tiny and smelling of soap and making soft noises at him.

There was a patch of grass in front of the flats and he spread out his hoodie on it and then carefully lay Frankie down, loving the way her eyes widened as if she was trying to take in the whole sky in one go. He lay down on his front beside her, picking at the grass and responding to her noises like she was making sense, and letting his mind wander.

The previous night had been confusing. He wasn't used to having crushes on people but he was sure now that he did. He'd had a total of one crush in his life before, and he really didn't want the one he had now. Viv was a great guy, but that was the problem. He was a really wonderful person as far as Gabe could tell, and he deserved someone better. He deserved someone who would be able to love him back. And while Gabe thought he was fit and sweet and could definitely imagine himself loving the guy, he didn't want to. He didn't want to love anyone else. 

It had been hard enough letting Frankie in and he'd done it because it needed to be done, because she was his little girl and he didn’t want to be like his own dad and abandon her. And he was glad he'd done it, but letting in a prospective... he searched for the word... romantic partner? He made a face at the term but couldn't think of a better one. But what ever he called it; it wasn't the same as opening his heart to his daughter. And he didn't want to do it. But he also had no idea how to tell someone no.  
There was panic building inside him and making it hard to breathe so he turned over on to his back and concentrated on taking deep breaths and counting down from ten. When he reached zero he turned to look at Frankie, who was looking at him, and couldn't help smiling at her inquisitive little face and the way her tongue was sticking out between her lips. 

"I've got a problem, Frankie love," he told her. She poked her tongue out further in response. "’Cos you know Viv? I think I might like him a bit more than I should. In a… in a romantic attraction sort of way. But I'm not really ready yet, you know? Cos, Frankie, I loved your mum so much. I still love ‘em so, so much. And I don't want to replace ‘em. I don't want to forget ‘em." 

He sniffed loudly to push back the threatening tears but the sound made Frankie startle, her arms flying out wide and her body jolting like she'd just been thrown out a window, but she settled easily once Gabe rolled up on to his side and put his hand carefully on her chest. 

"It's alright sweetness. It's okay. I've just got myself in a pickle and I don't know how to solve it ‘cos once I would've just asked your mum to help me with problems and they was so smart, your mum, they saw so much more than me, understood more... Kim should be here, raising you."

He stopped as the tears threatened again and Frankie filled the quiet with her cooing, which suited Gabe nicely. Perhaps, he thought as he let the sun's warmth seep in to his skin and calm his soul, perhaps Alya had it wrong. Perhaps the crush was one sided and Viv wasn't interested in him that way at all. Surely that was more likely. Viv was a good eight years older than him, with a good job and a good life - losing his best friend and mother of his daughter aside - and it was like he'd said over coffee, he wanted a 'dad friend'.

Gabe snorted at that, because the idea of him being a nice, appropriate-to-Viv's-world, dad friend was too ridiculous not to, but the noise caused Frankie to startle again and her face crumpled as she began to wail and tears washed down her cheeks. 

"Oh, love, don't fret. No, no, don't be scared," he told her as he sat up and gathered her in to his arms. "Daddy was just having a laugh at something, it's okay. It's okay."

She went back to making soft owl noises once in his lap and so he sat with her for a while longer, trying to get his thoughts in order. Alya, wonderful though she was, had to be wrong about Viv. Which was fine. And if the crush was one sided (which it almost definitely was) then that was easily fixed. Gabe knew that he couldn't be in a relationship and just had to establish firmly that what he had with Viv was friendship. Which was great because friendship was what he needed after all. The fluttery feelings would fade with time, surely, and seeing Viv more would probably help him to convince himself that he didn't actually want to be involved with the man. At least that was what he told himself.

When his phone buzzed and the message was from Viv, saying that he'd had a great time with him and asking if they could meet up again in two days time, Gabe convinced himself that that was proof that Viv only wanted a friend. He squashed down the feelings of disappointment that Viv didn't want him in that way and focused instead on what he needed to get done between now and the next parents group meeting. High on the list was getting his clothes washed. Viv had seen most of his nice tops already but at least he could make sure that his outfits didn't stink the next time they met. Viv took care of himself and Gabe suddenly felt the importance of doing the same.

*


	18. Chapter 18

"So the good news is that the baby's fine and we couldn't find any other underlying cause for the vomiting," the doctor told him, and Gabe struggled to keep his eyes open and his brain functioning enough to process what she was saying. "And we've been able to get her hydrated and the ondansatron seems to be working on the nausea side of things. That's the good news."

Gabe nodded dumbly, swaying on his feet. Kim should have been awake for this conversation but when the latest drug had kicked in it had stopped the nausea and then fair knocked them out. So it was just Gabe and the doctor, and he seemed to have forgotten how to speak. He stared down in to the dregs of his coffee instead, feeling the paper cup folding under his fingers, nodding just so the doctor would know he was listening.

"The bad news is that this nausea is because of the pregnancy, which means that she has to basically wait it out. Most morning sickness passes after about the twentieth week and we've estimated the baby's gestation to be about ten to twelve weeks, but with really severe nausea," she paused anxiously and Gabe looked up and saw the concern on her face. "It can actually last the whole pregnancy."

"They won't survive that," he whispered, trying to imagine the living hell of vomiting without relief for nine whole months. 

The doctor sighed and patted his arm in a way that was supposed to be comforting but really only made him feel small and stupid. 

"You can go home with a prescription for the ondansatron," she told him, "and we've already put her in to the system to receive her antenatal care here, because she'll need to be closely monitored. There are things we can do for her and the baby. The only thing is, the ondansatron, the anti nausea drug... it is expensive."

"But there's not..." Gabe blinked furiously as he fought to keep himself together. "There's not really a choice, is there?"

"No," the doctor said honestly. "Not really."

Kim had barely survived the bus trip home, and Gabe hated the way they were so silent, just staring in to space, and stumbling with every step on the short walk from the bus stop to the flat. When they got in Kim climbed in to bed and stayed there, curled up tight and miserable, and Gabe left them to it. 

He walked to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle but didn't bother to actually make tea. He needed to get the prescription filled and pick up some groceries. He'd have to explain to work while he was there, that Kim wasn't going to get better any time soon and that he would need to stay on half shifts for a bit longer.

He scrubbed at his face with his hands, feeling like he was about to just fade from existence he was so tired. They'd been in emergency for fifteen hours but the doctor had decided against admitting Kim once they were hydrated and Gabe hadn't had a chance to catch any sleep, something he now desperately wanted. But he had to get to the pharmacy first. He didn't want Kim waking up in a couple of hours, feeling miserable again and with nothing to stop the vomiting. 

He went back to the bedroom to tell them the plan but they was already asleep so he tucked the covers more securely around their shoulders and headed back out, blinking furiously to keep his eyes clear and open. He nearly walked out in front of a car on his way to the pharmacy but it seemed a far off thing and he was only aware of the car horn and the lights in his eyes and distant sound of the driver calling him a prick as he sped away. Nothing seemed real. Nothing except the bright, harsh lights of the pharmacy in any case.

He headed straight for the counter and handed over the script and his Medicare card, mumbling out the details the pharmacist asked him for, and then collapsed in to one of the plastic chairs set aside for people waiting in scripts to be filled. He didn't know what to do. He'd always managed with his basic job, looking after himself and then sharing with Kim, but a baby was a complete unknown. He knew they'd have to make it work.

The pharmacist called his name and he heaved himself out of the chair and back to the counter, worried that he'd start crying from exhaustion if he wasn't careful, a worry that increased when he was handed the flimsy cardboard box.

"Eight tablets?" he asked, staring in disbelief at the price. "But they… they’re supposed to have one every six hours. We'll run out in two days!"

The pharmacist shrugged. 

"That's the way we have to package them. It's the law. See you in two days."

Gabe tried to figure out how much it would cost him a week if each box cost forty-eight dollars and lasted two days but his brain just wasn't adding up the numbers any more. He trudged back toward the supermarket but stopped before he set off the door sensor, suddenly reluctant to enter. He'd been going to buy bread and pasta and milk and a few other comfort foods to get him through but now he was worried he'd end up short of cash.

He was beginning to back away when his manager caught sight of him and beckoned him in, grinning and waving, wanting news about how Kim was faring.

"Not great," Gabe admitted. "But they need some pretty dear meds so... I'm gonna need to go back to full shifts if that's okay?" 

"Sure mate," Shane reassured him. "As many as you can handle. And don't fret yourself. Morning sickness doesn't last and women's bodies are made for this. She'll be fine."

Gabe grabbed a loaf of expired bread from the back room before he left and made a plan to make it last for the rest of the week. He'd survived on less when he needed to. Right now he just needed to make sure that Kim made it through.

*


	19. Chapter 19

After four days spent getting to know his daughter, hand washing all of his clothes, texting his lately gotten friends, and another coffee with Viv, Gabe arrived at the next parenting meet up feeling refreshed and more relaxed than he'd felt in a very long time. He'd even fixed one of his oldest t-shirts, digging out needle and thread to re-sew the seams and stitching a little patch over the hole. It was a denim patch on pink cotton but it was small and he hoped that if anyone noticed they'd assume it was meant to be that way. He was wearing it that day, enjoying the new warmth in the air that meant he could go out in only a t-shirt with Kim's cardigan just in case. He'd dressed Frankie in a little pink outfit too, loving that they could dress to match, but hadn't wanted to put her in short sleeves because even if he was feeling the warmth she always seemed a little cold and he didn't want her freezing.

He'd put a plan together in his mind, that he'd do his best to stay in friend mode and not slip in to accidental flirting with Viv. Purely for his own good, he told himself, because he was the one who needed to be weaned off of his crush, not Viv, whatever Alya continued to tell him. It was probably, he'd decided during the week, because her own relationship was making her miserable. She was craving romance. He hadn’t really managed it on their second coffee date, he’d ended up holding Viv’s hand instead, as he listened to the poor, attractive man talk about how lonely he was and it had taken all of his will power to keep his mouth shut and not lunge across the table and kiss him. He had it bad but he was determined to do better, especially in front of the mums and nurses.

As he came to the lights and looked across the road he focused on the squat, ugly little building that was the family health clinic and felt his grin widen until he was sure it would split his face. The front of the building was its usual grey but the side of the building, where it backed on to the carpark, looked decidedly different, and had drawn a bit of a crowd. He watched as Alya stepped out of her car and looked at the mural, the awe on her face making him feel even prouder, and he ran across the road when the lights allowed, smiling down at Frankie and reminding her in a whisper to keep quiet about their little nighttime art adventure earlier in the week.

"Was it commissioned?" he heard Cathy ask one of the other mothers, her eyes drawn in suspiciously.

"No, apparently not," came the answer. "Barb said she just turned up one morning and there it was."

"Ugh," Cathy shook her head. "Some people have no respect for property."

"It is beautiful though," the other woman replied wistfully and Gabe stood on the verge of the carpark, listening happily. It wasn't often he got the opportunity to hear people's initial response to his work and he wanted to hear the praise, even if it was only a little.

"It reminds me of that rainbow one near the train station," another of the mums said as she bounced her baby on her hip. "Have you seen that one? It's so clever."

Gabe leaned down to press a kiss to Frankie's forehead at that because he couldn't quite process the fact that someone regularly enjoyed a piece of his work and the joy was making his blood fizz.

"It reminds me of the girl in the tunnel," a familiar voice said suddenly, forcing Gabe's head up so fast he nearly got caught in the pram's sunshade. "Beneath the overpass. It's the same girl. It's really lovely." 

Vivyan was staring at the mural like he could see something beneath the paint, his full lips ever so slightly parted as he took it in, and then he started to smile, like he'd figured something out and Gabe felt his chest tighten and expand all at once. A fluttering, aching electric feeling that was almost too much for him to cope with. He’d hoped it would get better, that his crush would ease as they spent more time together, but the opposite seemed to be the case.

"You look nice," Alya said; so close beside him that it made him jump. "Did you dress up for someone in particular maybe?"

Gabe turned to her with a rueful grin before wrapping his arms tight around her, enjoying how comforting and cuddly she was to hug. 

"This is literally the oldest top I own," he told her. "You look exhausted."

"Mm," she agreed, turning to look at the mural. "I haven't been sleeping much. I wish I could look as good as the mum on that wall. She’s beautiful, Gabe. And you've done Frankie beautifully too."

"What?" Gabe turned to her in sudden panic. "I didn't do it."

"Right," she replied drolly. "Well, whoever did paint it obviously loves the woman they painted very much. I can see why someone might feel the need to turn down another possible lover if this was the woman they were still hoping to be with."

"What?" Gabe asked again, struggling to keep up with Alya's insinuation the panic alarms still ringing in his head. 

"Ugh," she groaned, glaring back at him. "What I mean is that this woman here, that you have painted on this wall, is obviously Frankie's mum, because the baby in her arms is obviously Frankie. And she's been painted with such love that it's easy to guess that you still adore her, whatever's going on between the two of you that you won't talk about. And," she continued like it was obvious, "I can understand from this that of course you want to turn Viv down, because you're still in love with the woman in the painting. It's okay, Gabe. I just want you to let Viv down gently. He's been through a lot."

"I didn't paint this," Gabe answered, feeling stupid even as he said it. "You can't go telling anyone, Al, I’ll get in trouble."

She rolled her eyes at him but then smiled. 

"How's Frankie?" 

Grateful for the change of subject Gabe filled her in on Frankie's new skill of hooting like a baby owl as they entered the building, and Alya told him how Billy had started smiling whenever she came in to view and how whenever he did it gave her the strength to keep going with the day. 

"I don't think my marriage is going to end well," she admitted as they headed down the corridor to the meeting room. "But I know it's ending. I don't love him and I'm not sure anymore whether I ever did. His behaviour is escalating. I feel like I'm parenting two children rather than just the one and I don't know what to do."

Gabe turned to hug Alya tightly, not sure what he could say in response to such pain, and looked up in time to see Vivyan walking toward them.

"Hello, you two," he said cheerfully. "Did you see the mural outside?"

"Yeah," Gabe nodded, trying not to blush at the way Viv was looking at him with such delight, like he'd been counting down the days until they would see each other again. "It's alright."

"It’s wonderful. It reminds me of another piece I've seen," Viv continued happily as they entered the room and sat down together, laying out the three babies side by side. "I think it's even the same girl and…"   
Gabe turned at the lack of noise and realised that Viv was looking at him all bug eyed again, or more specifically, at his arm.

"Oh shit," Gabe breathed, lunging for the pram and grabbing his cardigan. 

It was too late. Vivyan had clearly seen his tattoo, the one he'd got to match Kim's, the one of her face, the face of the girl under the overpass. He'd used the same colours, swirls of blue and green for her skin, the misting of silver across her cheeks, the heavy black of her eye lashes, brows and hairline. He was so used to it being there that he hadn't even thought about the fact that people might recognise the style and join up the dots. 

"It was you?" Viv asked. "You painted that on the health clinic wall? Illegally? At night? With a baby in tow?"

"I..." Gabe wasn't sure how to defend himself and eventually looked down at where Frankie was wriggling and twisting her head in an attempt to see what was happening directly behind her. "I just wanted to make the place a little less ugly is all. I’d taken Frankie for a walk, like you said I should, and we ended up here and… and I just wanted, um..."

The weight of all he hadn't told them was starting to press on his brain but he just didn't know how to put it into words. He was rubbish with words, always had been, just like he was rubbish with people and conversations and living in the world generally.

"The woman in the painting is Frankie's mum," Alya explained gently, giving Gabe's knee a squeeze.

"Oh," Viv said, sounding only vaguely surprised, and vaguely disappointed. "That makes sense I guess. She's a lucky woman."

Gabe continued to keep his eyes locked firmly on Frankie, though his hand began to rub absently over the tattoo on his arm. He felt terrible. He hadn't exactly had many friends growing up but he knew that it wasn't on to keep secrets like this one from the people who were trying to get to know you and help you. 

"Don't worry, mate," Vivyan told him, putting a large, long-fingered hand on his back comfortingly. "You two'll work it out. And we're here for you. We’re friends, right? We can help if you need us."

Gabe didn't think he could feel any worse, not even when Cathy announced that she was having a half birthday for her son to celebrate the fact that they'd made it to six months without going insane and that everyone, even Gabe, was invited. Not that he had any intention of going. He had enough going on without subjecting himself to more awkward social situations. He needed to find some way to tell people what had happened. He just wasn't sure how.

*


	20. Chapter 20

Kim tried to focus on the ceiling above her but just couldn't make her eyes do what they were told. She felt terrible but, relative to how she usually felt, that wasn't so bad. She couldn't even remember how it felt to not be constantly nauseous, like she was out on a ferry in a storm, or two drinks past her body's breaking point. At least she wasn’t actually vomiting for once, she told herself, that was a definite plus. If she could just get through the day without retching and puking everything would be fine.

The worst days were the ones when her brain rebelled at the very idea that she could be pregnant, hating the way her hips were widening and her breasts aching. _'You're a man,'_ her mind screamed on those days, _'this can't be real, this can't be happening! It's a nightmare and you have to wake up!'_ The dysphoria on those days made her want to cut herself to pieces but there was nothing to be done about it. Her stomach kept right on growing and her breasts kept right on aching. They wanted to grow too, a nurse had told her, but she wasn't giving her body enough nutrients to let them.

Kim hated it, and she hated the insinuation that if she only tried a little harder she'd be able to keep down more food. Even when she wasn't vomiting or overwhelmed by nausea she found it hard to eat because she was simply too tired to do so. And she'd been doing her best to ration the meds, to make them last a little longer, but it was hard to not gulp them all down in one go, especially when her body was spinning and heaving and trying to leave her for dead. She knew how much the damned things cost, and how much they were costing Gabe.

She wasn't sure what day it was but Gabe was asleep in the bed beside her so there was a good chance it was a Sunday. Sundays were the only days Gabe didn’t work, because his boss couldn’t afford to pay him the penalty rates, and Kim knew he'd been working extra shifts to pay for her medication and make up for the fact that she'd had to quit her own job. She'd also lost her student allowance, because there was no way she could get to classes, and it had seemed cruel that being pregnant had cost them both so much.

She ran her hand down over the tight, unnaturally stretched skin of her stomach and imagined she could feel the baby inside moving about. She was twenty-two weeks in and felt like her belly had already taken over. She couldn't imagine another eighteen weeks, how huge she'd be by then. She couldn't bear to think about what was going to happen at the end of it all. At what would happen after the birth.

A week ago they'd made the harrowing journey in to the hospital, so that nurses and doctors could poke her and make her pee in a cup and tell her she was too thin and that her baby needed her to eat more and to try harder. She'd tried not to cry as Gabe explained again, through gritted teeth, that even with the ridiculously expensive medication she was still struggling to keep food down and was trying her best.

They'd had to have a conversation, the two of them - That Conversation - and it still made Kim's heart hurt, like a knife had been plunged right in to it, between her ribs and through her lung, stuck in too deep to pull out. Gabe had asked her what she wanted to do, his eyes cast down at his feet and thumbnail between his teeth. What she wanted to do about the foetus.

And she'd wanted to tell him that she hated it and wanted it gone. She knew he'd go along with it, she knew he didn't really want to be a father; she knew they weren't in a position to bring a child in to the world. She knew it all, but she just couldn't say the words. So instead she shook her head, ugly tears streaming down her face, and Gabe had wrapped his arms around her and cried just as hard. She couldn't kill it, even though it wasn't really alive, she couldn't seem to make the decision to do it, and so she was stuck with it, and when it was born it would be stuck with her.

And now here she was, a rancid mess, stuck on her back in bed, wearing Gabe's largest t-shirt, which was already too tight, and a pair of knickers that were overdue for a wash. Her lip was throbbing from where her piercing had gotten infected and her throat burned from the constant vomiting. She was a mess.

Looking across at Gabe asleep on his front with his face mashed against the pillow only made Kim feel worse. Even with deep, exhausted, bruises under his eyes he was beautiful but she hated how tired he always was. And she hated how the tattoo on his arm, the one of her face, showed just how far she'd fallen.

Her father had once said that Gabe would ruin her but she couldn't help but feel that she had ruined him. He was exhausted and thinner than ever, and she knew it was because he'd missed meals in favour of paying for her medication. He'd stopped painting at night and even sketching on paper during the day. He'd stopped wearing anything but his work shirt, and he'd stopped wearing make-up and playing with his hair, and he'd stopped smiling. Kim missed his smiles more than anything. The way he would grin in short bursts when he was nervous and shy, his lips curling upwards while his eyes were fixed down on his shoes. The way he would smile broad and childish when they were alone and he'd thought of something stupidly funny and couldn't keep it to himself. And the everyday smiles, like the ones she would pull from him whenever she called him pretty. She'd never appreciated how important his grins were until they’d dried up. Now she craved them.

The nausea hit her again like a wave breaking and her skin erupted with goosebumps as she began to sweat. She had one tablet left. She'd been hoarding it, saving it up. She'd been telling Gabe that the nausea wasn't so bad anymore, and that she was doing better, but she knew that he knew she was lying. She was living on icy poles and dry toast and only left the house for hospital visits. The life she'd been so desperate for, the life she had fought for, was over.

*


	21. Chapter 21

_'What's your address?'_

Gabe stared again at the message Alya had sent him nearly half an hour ago. He'd sent her his details and asked why but there'd been no response and he was torn between the desire to call her and find out if she was ok and the ever-present desire to just not. He settled for pacing instead and biting his nails until he bit too far and had to suck on his finger until the bleeding stopped instead. Frankie had been happily cooing in her pram since he'd dug out a bunch of old necklaces and strung them up in the shade of the pram like a strange sort of mobile for her, her little legs twitching and shaking all the while. He wanted her to go to sleep soon but he also wanted to know what was going on with Alya and it was starting to get to him, to the extent that when there was a sudden knock on the door it wasn't only Frankie who startled.

He was at the door in a moment and a second's glance through the spy hole told him it was Alya at his door, and that Billy was with her.

"What's happened?" he asked as he opened the door and ushered her in, lifting the pram over the lip of the door and bundling the shaking woman on to the couch. She shook her head in answer but it didn't take long for Gabe to figure it out. The bruise under her eye was already nasty and would look worse by morning he had no doubt. "Did he hit you? Did that shit of a husband hit you?"

"Yes," Alya said eventually, pressing her hands between her knees to try and stop the shaking but failing. "He was mad. I did something wrong, I don't know, and he hit me. So I told him I was leaving because hit once is hit one time too many. He said he was sorry but when I didn't stop packing he got mad again and said he would track me down and drag me home if I left. But I did anyway. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You did good. You did so good. And he won't find you."

“Thank you.”

Now it was Gabe who was shaking, the anger clattering about in his bones until he felt it would shake him to pieces if he didn't move. He pressed a kiss to Alya's forehead and hugged her tightly, hating how fragile she seemed, even through the thick jacket and the layers of clothing she was wearing. As the shaking started to overwhelm him he jumped from the couch and announced that he was making her a cup of tea.

"D'you need dinner?" he asked from the doorway. "I've got bread. I can make sandwiches?"

Alya laughed, a watery sob that came out with a smile, but she nodded, which Gabe hadn't expected, and so he went back in to the kitchen and pulled out the bread, peanut butter and a plastic plate to serve up on, glad that he could at least do something.

He carried out the tea and sandwiches with care and Alya took her tea from him eagerly, though she eyed the plate warily at first.

"Why are you using paper plates?"

Gabe looked down at the flimsy piece of white picnic ware in his hand and then back up to Alya.

"All my proper plates broke," he told her honestly, "but it's no big deal. These are easier. I can drop stuff all I want and nothing breaks."

"You’re odd, you know that?" Alya said over the top of her mug. "But in a really good way."

She ate all the sandwiches but one, and Gabe gladly put the last triangle in to his own mouth, but when the food was gone and the tea had been drunk Gabe realised that it was well past late and he needed to make Alya and Billy comfortable for the night.

"Come on, you can have the bed," he told her. "No arguments, you need a decent night's rest. I'll watch Billy. You sleep."

Her arguments had been feeble and he got her comfortable in his bed soon enough and grabbed his pillow to take out to the couch. Both babies were miraculously asleep so Gabe settled himself down on the couch and closed his eyes too. He wanted to know more about what had happened between Alya and her husband but there was no way he was going to push. Alya had hinted that she’d agreed to the marriage because it was what her parents wanted for her but she hadn’t elaborated and Gabe didn’t want to be nosey. His gran used to say that there was no point in being nosey when being silent could get you answers just as easily. He didn’t need to know her private. Everyone needed secrets.

He held that thought tight to his chest as he pressed his face in to his pillow but it drifted off somewhere during the night between preparing feeds for both Billy and Frank, changing wet nappies and figuring out he could rock both prams at the same time. He didn’t remember lying down again but he was definitely on the couch when he woke to the careful, quiet sounds of Alya pottering around the room the next morning.

She had a fresh mug of tea in her hands and was sitting on the floor by his small bookcase, examining the titles. He watched her with one eye, the other still gummed shut from sleep, as she slid out a book of sonnets and opened it at random. She smiled at whichever poem she'd found and Gabe felt his lips move to mirror the action. He'd had every sonnet in that book read out to him and had a sudden urge to read them for himself, which wasn't a feeling he'd had before.

Frankie's hoot-hooing suddenly grabbed his attention and he sat up fast, his head spinning, only to discover that she was lying happily on a play mat beside Billy, jittering and shaking but apparently having the time of her life, and he smiled blearily at Alya when she looked up from her book.

"Hey," she greeted him softly. "Thanks for letting me sleep."

"Same," he croaked, pulling himself up and attempting to flatten his hair down. "Can I get you some breakfast?"

She gave him a look that he didn't quite understand, though he'd seen it often enough growing up. It was the sort of look his gran had used on him when he was trying to argue something that went against what was 'sensible.'

"I would love something for breakfast, Gabby," she told him, "but there is nothing in your kitchen. We need to go shopping. You need vegetables." Gabe frowned at her but she just smiled and shook her head. "You do! You may not mind living on air but it's not good for you. And besides, I need comfort food. So we're going to the shop and I'm buying food and then I'm coming back here and I'm going to cook the food and you, skinny, are going to eat the food. And I don't want to hear any of that 'I'm a grown-up, I can take care of myself' nonsense. You are going to let me cook for you."

"Bossy," Gabe mumbled but he was grinning. "You sound like Viv. He’s always trying to make me eat cake when we go for coffee. But I guess if you're staying here then there should be food you can eat. I'd be a pretty shit host if I denied you food."

"Exactly," she replied, before looking back down at the book in her hands, her brow furrowing. "And I'm afraid I don't really have anyone else I trust right now, to let me stay and not tell my husband where I am. Sorry."

"Stay as long as you need," Gabe told her earnestly. "Seriously. No friend of mine is going to get left high and dry. You left a bad situation and a bad person before he broke you. Don't apologise for that. Never apologise for that. You're amazing."

"Thank you," she told him sadly and he rolled off of the couch and crawled across the floor to her, happy to see her laugh a little at his laziness.

"No worries,” he grinned. “My hovel is your hovel."

"But what about," Alya hesitated. "I don't even know her name, but what about Frankie's mum? My being here isn't going to jeopardise things between you two is it?"

Gabe felt his heart plummet. "Um..."

"Because I noticed her make-up in the bathroom is all and I wouldn't want her to get the wrong idea."

"Oh, no," Gabe shook his head vigorously. "Nah, that's... that's mine actually. Or at least, we shared it. "You see, Alya, the thing is..."

*  
 


	22. Chapter 22

"Gabby?"

"Hmm?" Gabe rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand, looking to Kim like something out of a dream.   
The sun was filtering dully through the blinds behind him, and Kim decided that a halo really did suit him. He brought his hand up to cup Gabe’s chin, feeling the stubble under his hand, and then let it slide down his neck and over his shoulder, loving the way the sensation under his hand went from rough to gloriously smooth and soft. That was Gabe all over, Kim thought. A little prickly when he felt threatened but a soft souled angel if you just bothered to feel further. 

"What's the matter, love?" Gabe whispered. "What d'you need? What can I do?"

"I'm fine," he lied. "I was just thinking. The lady at the hospital, with the ultrasound... she said it looks like a girl, right?"

"Got girl bits anyway," Gabe shrugged. "What of it?"

"Well," Kim spoke slowly, needing to breathe every few words, his mind hazy and uncertain. "I was thinking. I like the name Francesca."

"Like my gran?" Gabe asked, looking at him like he was a half finished sketch that wasn't quite turning out the way he wanted. 

"Yeah," Kim nodded. "She was nice, your gran. D'you remember when the council accidentally addressed a letter to her with Mr instead of Mrs and she went barmy over it?"

Gabe let out a quiet huff of laughter through his nose and nodded. "And we called her Frank for a week."

"Before she threatened to belt us if we didn't stop."

"Yeah," Gabe smiled sadly, moving carefully to run his hand down Kim's arm in carefully. "I remember. She was good."

"And I thought," Kim continued, gasping as the breath he needed didn't come. "I thought it'd be a good name. Francesca Perez. We could call her Frankie for short. Our little Frankie."

He could tell by the way Gabe sucked his bottom lip in that he was trying to keep his emotions hidden and Kim hated that he seemed to always be the one making Gabe cry.

"Francesca Kimberly Perez," he said eventually, and the look on his face said that he really wasn't going to allow an argument.

"You serious?"

"As a tax return," he nodded, and Kim smiled up at him, loving the way his dark eyes shone when he actually managed to make eye contact. 

"Francesca Kimberly Perez," Kim said aloud. "Frankie. Our little Frankie. She's gonna be lucky as fuck, no matter what happens ‘cos she'll have the best dad in the world."

"Are you alright?" Gabe asked urgently, but Kim couldn’t do much more than nod. Kim closed his eyes, trying to breathe, trying to stop his mind from just collapsing in on itself like a wet paper bag. His heart was hurting again but not, he realised, in an emotional way. It felt as if the baby had crawled up and out of his stomach, in to his chest, and was lying directly on his heart. "Your hands are cold. Love? Kim love? Are you ok?"

"Yeah," Kim told him soothingly, forcing the words out. "Yeah, I'm ok. I'm just tired is all. Promise me... promise me that everything will be alright?"

"It will be," Gabe whispered, pressing a kiss to Kim’s forehead. "I promise. You're going to get better and you, me and Frankie'll live happily ever after. Sound good?"

Kim wanted to reply but found that his eyes wouldn't open and his mouth wouldn't move to form the words he needed. Gabe kissed him again and his body ached with yearning because he wanted to kiss his boyfriend and hold him the way he used to. He wanted to love and tease Gabe’s beautiful body until his mind unravelled, and he wanted to watch him laugh and raise his arms above his head in surrender as Kim brought pleasure to every nerve in his body. 

He wanted to ride his bike to university and argue about words and the way they could impact the world. He wanted to sit on the ledge of the overpass and dangle his legs over the edge and drink beer and play truth or dare, and dress up in stupid clothes and do stupid things to his hair, and he wanted to live. But he wasn't going to.

*


	23. Chapter 23

"This is stupid, Al. I don't want to be here."

Gabe felt like he was going to vomit, again, and nothing Alya was saying to him about the importance of not becoming a genuine recluse was changing his mind or his stomach's need to bring up the breakfast she'd insisted he eat.

"Ok," she sighed, standing beside him as they looked up at the respectable red brick house with its manicured rose bushes. "Let's just stop for a bit then. I'm sorry I'm pushing. I think having Billy magnified my maternal intincts."

"Dragon mama," Gabe agreed. "It's good though. I'm just... really scared."

They stood on the footpath, prams held steady in nervous hands, staring at Cathy's front door. They were a little late because Gabe hadn't been able to decide what to wear and then Billy had needed a last minute nappy change, so they'd missed the early bus and had to wait for the next one. And the whole time they were preparing and traveling Gabe had wondered why he was even bothering to go at all. Cathy didn't like him, even if she'd never said as much, and it wasn't even a real birthday party. Her baby was six months old and Gabe couldn't even remember its name.

"I know you’re scared. I'm pretty nervous too but just imagine how proud Barb will be when she hears we've been socialising like proper grow-ups."

Gabe nodded but his body was still vibrating with nervous energy that he couldn't quite seem to let go of. Barb had cornered him at their last parents group, to tell him on the one hand that she was proud of him for sticking with the group and making friends, and to urge him on the other to get out more and really work on building those new relationships. For Frankie’s sake, she insisted, because apparently babies needed social events and friends, even when they slept through them and couldn’t talk.

He hadn’t mentioned that Alya had been staying with him for the last week, or that he’d been catching up regularly with Vivyan, even though he knew she’d be pleased to hear that he was actually making an effort. He worried it’d lead to too many questions. Questions like why, if he was seeing Viv three times a week, was he still acting so skittish around him. He didn’t want to have to explain how much effort went in to not flirting with the man, or that his relationship with Alya was entirely platonic. It was all too much and he’d never been good at talking about himself or his feelings. But he was trying to make an effort, which was how he’d ended up at Cathy’s picture perfect house.

He'd spent far too long making an effort with his outfit before deciding to wear his black and red, long sleeved top, even though Alya had wanted him to wear one of his lace ones, or the peasant blouse with the embroidered bats. He'd promised to try them all on for her that evening if she quit teasing, but the ribbing had been good natured and Gabe had happily done Alya's make-up for her when she realised he knew what he was doing. He'd even applied some eyeliner and mascara himself, feeling a strange sense of homesickness hit him as he did. It had been so long since he'd worn any make-up, yet it was part of the person he used to be and he missed that person almost as much as he missed Kim, so he did his make-up with care, and did what he could with his hair, and when he was ready he'd presented himself to Alya for inspection.

"You look gorgeous," Alya told him again as they stood in front of the door, neither wanting to be the one to ring the bell. "Poor Viv, he's got no chance of getting over you now."

"There's nothing to get over," Gabe sighed. "He doesn't like me like that. And I'm just not ready to be in a relationship, Alya."

"I know. Sorry. But I stand by my first statement. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and how you look at him. He was practically falling over himself the other day, giving you presents and blushing whenever you so much as looked at him. And honestly, I find it hard to believe that people aren't constantly falling for you, Gabby. You really do look good."

Gabe felt his cheeks burn. It was one thing to be told by his girlfriend that he was nice to look at, they had been love blind and Gabe had never really believed them when they said it, but to hear a friend say it, in such a straightforward, no nonsense way, was more than he could handle. He shook his head and focused his eyes on his feet, waiting for Alya to ring the doorbell so that they could get the whole sorry mess over with. Viv hadn’t been giving him gifts, just baby clothes Emmaline had out-grown, but he had noticed the blushing. It was achingly sweet.

He hadn't been expecting champagne, or so many people, and when Cathy showed them through to the back yard Gabe scanned the space and found himself a spot by the fence where there was a bench and he would be able to sit and feed Frankie and not be overly noticed. Cathy had been happy to leave him to it but she insisted on introducing Alya to some friends of hers, practically dragging the woman away, and Alya had given him an apologetic smile as she let herself be taken off, Billy in her arms and a forced smile on her face, determined to be nice to absolutely everyone.

Gabe lifted Frankie carefully out of her pram and held her close to his chest. He felt so out of place. The women all seemed to have identical, honey streaked, shoulder length hair and the men were all wearing boot cut jeans and polo shirts and Gabe reasoned he might as well be naked for how exposed he felt. He considered simply walking out and heading back home, but he couldn't do that to Alya. She wanted friends and was determined to make some but needed him around in case she needed to make a quick getaway too. So instead he focused on Frankie, who was twitching in her sleep and holding on to her gastric tube like it was a security blanket.

"Hey now," he whispered softly as he moved her hand away before she could do herself harm. "Don't do that. 'Course if you did it'd be the ultimate excuse for leaving in a hurry, hey? But we should sit it out. Alya says if we do she'll make us pilaf for tea and I have absolutely no idea what that is but the way she describes it makes it sound fucking delicious."

"Gabe?" He looked up so fast at the sound of Viv's voice that it hurt his neck but once his eyes had settled on the man he just couldn't look away. His strawberry hair shone in the sunshine and his pale eyes were bright, like they were dancing. He was giving Gabe one of his plum-lipped smiles and Gabe could barely resist the urge to jump up and pash him. "Oh my god, Gabe, you look amazing."

"I... what?"

"Are you wearing make-up?" Viv asked him, sliding down on to the bench beside him, holding Emmy on his hip.

"Yeah," Gabe answered in a small voice, feeling suddenly like a scruffy boy being scrutinised by the teacher for daring to turn up to class in eyeliner. "What of it?"

"Nothing," Viv rushed to assure him, putting a hand to Gabe's knee in a way that was supposed to be reassuring but which only made Gabe realise that his crush was still completely untamed and out of control. "It looks amazing on you, I just..." he shrugged, "haven't ever known a straight guy to wear make-up so well is all."

Gabe frowned. Despite not wanting to be in a relationship, and despite the fact that he had secrets he was keeping from the man, he was in no way comfortable with Vivyan assuming he was straight, and his mouth ran off ahead of him before he could stop to think about the consequences.

"You think I'm straight?" he asked and watched as Viv's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "How dare you."

He said it in a joking way but was still worried Viv would take it wrong, and instead of laughing the man pursed his lips and looked at him seriously.

"See, now I'm confused. Because the first time we met I thought definitely straight, and then the next time I thought, hmm, maybe not, because let's face it, when you get angry you flounce-"

"I what?"

"Then when we went out for coffee," Viv continued, refusing to acknowledge the interruption, other than to raise his eyebrow. "I thought no straight guy would be able to pull off an outfit like that, but,” he sighed. “To be honest I'm still confused. Every time I see you I’m confused. I don't get it. Are we flirting? Are we friends? I told you I liked you and asked if you wanted to go out and you said yes.” He sniffed and Gabe hated that it sounded like a sob, but wasn’t sure what to do to comfort Viv. This didn’t seem like an appropriate occasion for a hug. “And I tried to tell myself that we’re just friends and… then I found out you do have a girlfriend,” it was definitely a sob this time. “Not that she deserves you. Has she even seen Frankie? I mean… you’re sweet and kind and such an attentive dad and she’s just… I don’t know. So I tried to just accept that you’re straight and that I’m an idiot-"

"You’re not. You’re really not," Gabe interrupted again, his voice turning husky as he felt the truth preparing to tumble forth. "That would be me. And I don't have a girlfriend. As much as I wish it weren't true, the fact is, Frankie's mum... she- _they_ … they’re not in my life anymore."

"She's not?" Viv sat forward a little more, resting his hand on the bench so that it touched the grey-black denim of Gabe's jeans and Gabe wondered if Viv knew that it was burning him.

Despite the fact that the noise of the party was still constant Gabe couldn't help but feel that people were listening in to what he was saying and he tried to keep his voice stable and quiet, even though the urge to scream was clawing at the back of his throat.

"Frankie's mum, _their_ name was Kim," he said slowly, focusing on the pattern of Viv's shirt, the delicate paisley in pink and purple and blue. "I loved ‘em so fucking much, Viv. They were my reason for living. They were so beautiful! And clever. God, Viv but they were clever. You two would've got so well. Truly. And I loved ‘em so much. I loved her when she was a girl, when he was a guy, when they was both, and neither, and always. They were my Everything. And they di'nt even live long enough to see our daughter. They just died, Viv. They just stopped and weren’t there anymore. They were just… gone."

He had thought, as the words began, that he would burst into tears, like he had when he told Alya. She had held him tight to her chest and rocked him, kissed his forehead and cheeks and said she was so sorry for his pain, cried with him and listened and asked questions about the person Kim had been and the life they'd had together. Perhaps the exorcism of those words had cleaned the wound, and used up all his tears, because there were no tears now, just that dry, aching, tightness in his throat.

And silence. He looked up at Viv and felt like the breath had been slapped out of him. There were tear streaks down Vivyan's face and his chest was heaving and he was cuddling his daughter to his chest in an exact mirror of Gabe's own attitude.

"Gabe, I'm so sorry," he sighed, his lips - those beautiful, full, red lips - barely moving and yet conveying so much emotion that it bruised Gabe's heart. "I'm... I'm-"

"Vivyan!"

The high pitched stress on the first syllable was enough to make all four of them jump, babies and all, and Gabe watched Viv thumb the tears from his eyes as Cathy approached, composing himself with grace and maturity when Gabe just wanted to tell the woman to get gone. He couldn't, of course. It was her party and they were guests in her garden and the thought of making a scene spiked his anxiety enough without him actually following through on it. He did appreciate the muttered 'shit' he heard from Viv before he turned and smiled though.

"Cathy, how are you enjoying things?"

"Good, good, good," Cathy replied, tottering over to them in heels that Gabe thought were a bad choice given the grass, holding a champagne glass in one hand and holding out her other to Vivyan. "You have to come and meet my friend Oscar. He's gay and he's a graphic designer, just like you!"

"Soul mates then," Gabe muttered darkly but Cathy just gave him a tight smile.

“Hello, Gabriel,” she said at him, a little too loudly for Gabe’s liking. “You look very… pretty today. But Viv, seriously, you have to meet him. He’s really hot.”

"Oh, I'm fine, Cathy, really," Viv tried to tell her. "I don’t think I'm at a point where I want to, you know, get in to a relationship."

"Nonsense," Cathy argued over him. "You can't just sit in the corner with Gabriel all the time. And even he's hooked up with Alya! Come on now, come and meet Oscar. Then it'll be cake time!"

Gabe felt numb. When Cathy had said that he’d 'hooked up' with Alya, Viv had turned to him with a look of such hurt. And then he let Cathy pull him away, off to meet some man who was a far better fit, Gabe didn't doubt. And Gabe couldn't summon up a single emotion to help him process what had happened.

'You should be happy,' his brain told him. 'You finally told Viv the truth about Kim. 'You should be happy, because you don't want to be in a relationship and now you've heard from Viv that he doesn't want that either. You should be happy.' But it didn't feel right.

He stood awkwardly and put Frankie carefully back in her pram, trying to act normally even though it felt like the world was spinning and lurching, like he was drunk and walking the ledge of the overpass. The men bellowing over the barbecue were too loud, too threatening, and the women cackling and gushing over babies and cloth nappies were too grating on his nerves. He couldn't see Alya anywhere and so decided to just go. He'd text her once he was out, he figured, but she caught up with him as he reached the side gate, looking just as ready to leave as he did.

"I changed my mind," she said with a crack in her voice. "These are not my kind of people. Let's go home."

*


	24. Chapter 24

As he held the line with emergency services Gabe started to think that maybe he'd made a mistake. What if they were cross at him for wasting their time? Then again, what if they were cross at him for waiting until now to call? Because as far as Gabe could tell, this was an emergency. Kim wouldn't wake up.

They'd been asleep when he went to work and was asleep when he got home, and there was nothing in the sick bucket, and no icy poles missing from the freezer to indicate that Kim had eaten anything or moved at all. Gabe had washed their face with a cool, damp cloth and kissed their cheeks and laid down beside them, telling them about his boring day, trying to pretend that everything was fine and that his heart wasn’t breaking. 

And he had just been falling asleep, giving in to the aching tiredness that never seemed to go away anymore, no matter what he did, when the bed began to shake. His eyes flew open and he saw that it wasn't the bed but Kim who was shaking, their body jolting and convulsing, their face slack and their eyes rolled back in to their skull.

He'd been frantic as he tried to wake them, do anything to make the intense trembling stop, but Kim didn’t seem to hear him. He'd panicked then. Pulled at his hair and screamed. Grabbed Kim by the shoulders and shook them and called their name. He begged. And then the shaking stopped but Kim still wouldn't wake up and so, with tears burning his eyes, he called for an ambulance.

Loud knocking made him jump and he crammed his knuckles in to his mouth to stop the sobbing, rocking furiously as he tried to convince his body to move. He had to let them in but he didn't want to leave Kim and it was torturous to drag himself away and run to the door, to face the paramedics and try to put in to words what had happened.

They were kind. And they didn't waste time. They assessed Kim's condition and put them on stretcher bed immediately, tugging Gabe along, telling him to breathe, that they’d located the baby’s heart, that the baby was fine, but Kim was another matter entirely.

To Gabe it was a blur. He was given a seat beside Kim in the ambulance and held their hand as the paramedic put a mask over their waxy face, explaining that he needed to get their oxygen up, that they were dehydrated and that the hospital would get them sorted.

Gabe tried to believe him, nodded along to the hope in his voice. Until the shaking started again.

"Kim," he whispered as the ambulance turned the last corner to the hospital. "Love, please? Please don't die? Please?"

*


	25. Chapter 25

Gabe woke with a jolt on the couch, blinking groggily. He hadn't meant to fall asleep and hoped Alya wouldn’t take it as a snub. He wasn’t a fan of naps and his mouth felt claggy, but the emotional overload of finally telling Viv what had happened to Kim seemed to have knocked him for six. Outside the window the sky was just starting to turn purple and gold and the flat was filled with a glorious smell. He checked on Frankie, but she was still sleeping sound, which meant he couldn't have been asleep for long, so he wrapped his arms around his waist and wandered in to the kitchen. 

He mostly cooked pasta when he was cooking, and nothing he'd made had tasted or smelled as good as what Alya had been creating with his solitary pot over the last week. She looked happy as she stood at the stove, hand on hip, stirring rice and spices and god only knew what, because Gabe sure didn't.

"Hey," he mumbled as he came to stand beside her, peering in to the pot.

"Hey," she replied, offering him a smile. "You feeling any better?"

"A bit," he nodded. "But not really."

"Yeah, I won't try and make you come out to a party again, never fear."

"It's alright, not your fault. What got you so upset anyway? What did they say?"

Alya had been shaking with anger when they'd left Cathy's but Gabe hadn't been in a fit state to find out what had happened, and had, at some point, fallen asleep on the couch. He wanted to know now though, not only because he wanted to be a good, supportive mate, but because Alya's opinions were fierce and her rants, when she got going, were entertaining and full of fire.

"Well," she began, taking a deep breath, which made Gabe grin and jump up to sit on the kitchen bench. "First they were being all, 'isn't Vivyan amazing? Single dad. So inspirational.' Which, okay, he's doing a great job, but then they had a go at one of the other mothers, for being a single mum, and I told them I didn’t like talking about people when they weren’t there to defend themselves. They didn’t listen, of course. Then they started having a go at you, for being a single dad! After they all gushed over Vivyan! So I pointed out the hypocrisy of that, which didn't make me popular. They were gossiping, and I don't like gossip." She punctuated the words with waves of her wooden spoon and Gabe smiled all the wider. "And Then! Then someone said that they weren't sure that it was right for a gay man to be a father anyway and I, socially inept idiot that I am, pointed out that you're not gay, and they laughed at me, because they meant Viv, and made jokes about you trying to flirt with him and it being embarrassing and how gay people shouldn't really be parents and I got so, so angry because I... because I'm..." She stopped for breath, her cheeks as red as Gabe's felt, and he hugged his arms around his chest as hard as he could, though it didn't feel enough. "And they thought I was angry because... because you and I... and I told them they were small minded, ignorant people and had it all wrong, and they asked me how I got the bruise on my face..."

Gabe opened his arms and Alya walked forward to press against the counter and hug him so fiercely he lost his breath. 

"It's okay," he told her gently, running his hand up and down her back and pressing his cheek to her soft, thick hair. "They're a bunch of pricks. People who only see in black and white and mostly only like the white." 

She chuckled at that and pressed her face to his shoulder as she continued speaking.

"When I was younger I didn't even understand that some people are only attracted to one type of person. I just... thought of course it was normal to have crushes on my female friends as well as my male ones..."

"The only thing bisexuals are truly confused about," Gabe agreed, "is how other people aren't also bisexual."

"Yes," Alya sighed. "But I've made a mess of things. Cathy told the others that you and I arrived together, and they've seen us be affectionate. Apparently we are the focus of a good deal of gossip. Half the group think you're gay because they’ve seen you pining for Viv.”

“I don’t-” Gabe tried to defend himself but Alya gave him a look and he shut his mouth with a snap, hating the way his cheeks were heating up at the mere mention of his feelings for Viv, and how obvious they were.

“So, half of the group have picked up on the fact that you are head over heels for Viv, and think you’re gay. The other half think that you and I are an item and that I've run away from my husband in favour of you."

"All so close to the mark and yet so far," Gabe mumbled, squeezing Alya tight and pressing his head to her shoulder. 

The silence in the kitchen was heavy but not uncomfortably so, more like a warm quilt on a cold morning, and Gabe only let go of his friend grudgingly when she insisted that her pilaf needed her attention as well. 

"Viv's mad at me, I think," he mumbled eventually, looking down at his hands as he fiddled with the sleeves. "I don't really know why. I just," he shrugged. "I got a feeling."

He curled his lip as his frown deepened. Why did people have to be such hard work? With Kim things had been easy. Complicated in some ways but still easy because he'd known how their mind worked, and because from the very first moment the two of them had fit together like their ribs had been made to interlock. Without Kim around friendships and feelings just didn't make much sense. There was too much unknown and it was frightening. And so much of the unknown was inside his own head and his own heart.

"I thought you didn't want Viv to be interested?" Alya asked with her eyebrows raised and her eyes focused on the bubbling pot. 

"Yeah, but I don't want him to hate me either. And then he told Cathy he wasn't interested in being in a relationship but he'd just told me off for giving mixed signals because he thought our coffee dates were, you know, dates! And I just..." he shook his head, not knowing how to put it all in to words.

"Well," Alya glanced at him nervously. "I don't think it's as bad as all that."

Gabe narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her as she avoided him. "Why so?”

"Because he called me when you were sleeping and I may have invited him for dinner."

"Alya!"

"He's lonely, Gabe! And you two need to talk, one way or another, so that you can stop dancing around your feelings. And you're both my friends and I don't like that you're making each other miserable. There's enough misery in the world without you two making it worse, and-"

Billy began to cry in the next room and she bustled off quickly to pick him up, yelling to Gabe to stir the food so it wouldn't burn. And he did, standing in the kitchen, stirring the dinner, wondering why he didn't feel anxious or panicked, and was smiling instead.

*


	26. Chapter 26

Gabe remembered that night as a blur of harsh colours and loud noises. People had yelled, demanded equipment, syringes, an operating theatre. 'The Baby' they'd all yelled. 'The Baby.' Or so it seemed to Gabe. And all he could do was watch and try to stay out of the way as they tried to bring Kim back to him. 

"We need to take her through now," a nurse had said, grasping his arm and urging him to walk with her, trailing behind the bed as it sped down the hospital corridor. "You can't come in there but you can wait just here, outside and you can have a minute with her now, okay?"

Gabe had stared dumbly, not knowing what to do, or what was happening. Too many of the words people had spoken at him didn’t make any sense and all he could feel was the fear pulsing in the walls. 

"I don't..."

"We don't know whether she'll get through this," the nurse told him honestly. "Her body is shutting down and we need to get the baby out. It's the best chance for both of them right now. But we still don't know if her body will cope. You need to tell her you love her. You need to say goodbye."

Kneeling by the bed, face so wet he couldn't even feel the tears that were still falling, he stared at Kim's face and sobbed. Their eyelids were fluttering, like they weren’t quite asleep, and he pressed his forehead against theirs, hoping desperately that they could hear him.

"I love you,” he whispered brokenly. “That doesn't even come close to covering it, but it's all I've got. I love you. And I'll never stop. And when you get through this I'm gonna tell you even more often than I did before, so you know that I love you and that you're amazing and that," his voice cracked, "that I need you. I need you, Kim. You have to survive this or I won't. I won’t survive without you. I can’t. Please? Please don’t die? I love you. I love you." 

The nurse helped him to his feet as Kim was wheeled in to theatre and the doors closed with a click that seemed so small and yet so final. Hands pushed him down in to a plastic chair and placed a cup of water before him but Gabe couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't feel. He was alone and Kim was not coming back.

Too soon a doctor appeared in his field of vision, sitting opposite him, a blur of blue scrubs. He looked tired, Gabe thought, seeing the way his shoulders sloped down and his hands hung limply from his wrists. He looked defeated.

"I'm sorry," he said, though to Gabe his voice seemed rooms away. "We did all we could. The baby's been taken to the neonatal intensive care unit upstairs. Someone can take you there now."

"No." He heard himself say it but it too sounded far off and foreign. "I want to see Kim. I need to see Kim."

They'd allowed it. Brought him in through a different door, explained in complicated words how Kim’s heart had given up, but all he could focus on was the body in the centre of the room. They'd covered it from the neck down, to hide where they'd cut out the baby, he supposed, and there was only the face, but that was enough. Kim was gone and all that was left was a shell, a cocoon so fragile he wondered whether it would turn to dust at his touch. But he didn't want to find out, and backed out of the room, wondering how his body could have run out of tears when he needed them most.

And then he had been steered through the corridors, into a lift, out of a lift, down a longer, dimmer corridor, to a large locked door. To the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, the NICU, and to the tiny plastic box that held the baby. But he couldn't stand to look at what lay inside.

They had told him to go home. They had told him to sleep and come back in the morning when he could meet with a social worker. But how was he supposed to do that? He had to wait until morning, when the buses were running, but he couldn't wait by the plastic box in the small, dark room full of beeping and the whir of machinery. He couldn't bare it. So he sat in the small bay that served as a parents’ lounge, with his head in his hands, pulling at his hair until he imagined he could feel his scalp ripping. 

And then at five he got on a bus, went home, looked at the bed he'd used to share, and threw up.

And when that was done he'd started on the smashing. 

Yelling hadn't helped. Crying hadn't helped. So Gabe did the only thing he knew would work: he smashed what he was allowed to smash, and when that was gone he smashed what he was supposed to keep and continued until there was nothing left to destroy. 

And now there were no plates, no cups, no nothing to throw, and no emotions or energy left either. 

He crawled to the couch and pressed his face in to the pillow, trying to force the tears to come, but they wouldn't, though sleep finally did.

 

*


	27. Chapter 27

"I brought wine," Viv said by way of greeting when Gabe answered the door. "Because it goes well with pilaf. And I also brought Kahlua, but I don't have an excuse for that, I just like it."

Gabe chuckled and Alya laughed, hugging him tight and taking both bottles from his hands and in to the kitchen. 

"How d'you even know what pilaf is?” Gabe asked with a smirk. “I still don't understand it and I've been stirring it."

"It's just rice," Viv smiled fondly. "Just fancy rice. But hey," he reached out a tentative hand to stop Gabe from following Alya to the kitchen. "Can I talk to you?"

Gabe nodded, feeling a flutter or panic. He'd been bouncing Frankie, using her as an excuse for not being physically affectionate with Viv when he arrived, but the man was looking even more fidgety than normal and Gabe reckoned he probably needed a hug. He dragged the oxygen behind him and sat on the couch, and gestured for Viv to follow. As nervous as he was, he couldn’t deny the smile that escaped to spread across his lips at the way the old couch sagged toward the centre when Viv sat as well, so that their knees bumped together. 

Frankie was wriggling and he considered putting her down on the play mat with Billy and Emmaline, who seemed to be involved in some kind of baby dance competition the way they were both flapping their arms and rolling on to their sides, but lay her down on his legs instead so that she could look up at him, and so he had the best excuse possible for not looking at the man beside him. 

"Look, Gabe," Viv began, sounding like he'd been rehearsing what he needed to say. "I'm really sorry about today. I had no right to bombard you with my feelings. I had no right to expect you to justify yourself to me. And you told me something immensely personal," he stopped for breath and Gabe glanced up and saw the tears in his pale eyes. "You told me... something that must have been very hard to say, or you probably would have said it before now. And I did not respond well. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he said automatically, though it didn't really feel like the right thing to say. "Weren't your fault we got interrupted.”

"No," Viv agreed. "But I handled that badly as well. And I jumped to conclusions. I believed Cathy when she said you and Alya were an item instead of asking you, when you were sitting right there. And I was angry about it because... because I had been trying to convince myself that I didn't... care for you as deeply as I do..."

"Yeah," Gabe breathed out. "I've got a crush on you an' all as well."

Viv started to laugh, a breathy chuckle that made his shoulders shake, and Gabe watched, loving the way his eyes crinkled and his freckles disappeared as his cheeks went red. He felt proud at being able to make Viv happy but when Viv looked up, and caught his eye, he felt something else entirely. 

"I've been trying to convince myself that I'm not ready, right now, to be in a relationship," he said, bringing his hand to rest against Gabe's. "I've been telling myself in the mirror each day that I'm just lonely and need a friend and that I don't really fancy you, but I do. And I couldn't figure out if you were interested in me, and my gaydar is rubbish and I'm still not sure even-"

"I'm bi," Gabe blurted out. "And I'm interested. I didn't want to be. I still love Kim. I still miss ‘em. I don't want to replace ‘em. But I like you. And Kim’d probably be telling me to go for it right now."

A tear slipped down his cheek but before another could join it Vivyan's thumb had brushed it away as he slid his hand around to Gabe's neck. He moved slowly, tenderly, as if terrified that Gabe might break, and Gabe worried that his heart actually would, because he wanted to kiss Vivyan, but knew that once he did, his life would never be the same. Viv seemed to sense his reticence and stilled his hand, the fingers tangled in Gabe’s untidy curls, waiting, even though Gabe could see his desperation. He hesitated a moment longer, watching the way Vivyan’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. On his lap Frankie wriggled and he recalled suddenly, from nowhere, that she had reached twenty-eight weeks, had now been alive longer than she’d been in Kim’s womb, and living despite all odds. 

It was time, he reckoned, for him to start living again too. He licked his own lips and watched Viv shiver, eyes wide, lips parted, and leaned forward, tilting his chin like an invitation. Viv’s hand tightened in his hair as he edged closer, breathing hard.

“Kiss me?”

He'd been right about Viv's plump lips being soft as marshmallows, Gabe thought as their lips met, but he didn't think much else as Viv pressed more firmly, and the electric buzz that went through his system at having those long fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him whimper, made him shiver and open his mouth invitingly. It was a different kiss to any he'd had before. Not better or worse, just different, and he let it wash over him like warm, clean water. 

"I knew it," Alya whispered triumphantly from the doorway and Viv pulled out of the kiss, leaving Gabe dazed and blinking. "Well don't I feel like a third wheel." 

"Nonsense," Viv told her. "You're our friend, you're integral, no third wheel about it." 

Gabe’s lips were tingling and he felt himself beginning to blush under Alya's triumphant gaze so looked down, only to feel his heart burst with overwhelming joy at what he saw.

"Frankie! Hey gorgeous girl! Guys, she's smiling! She's smiling! Hey, baby. Are you happy? Yeah? Me too. I love you!"

It was a wide, open mouthed and gummy grin, and her arms were waving as she wriggled and showed off her new skill, seeming so pleased that her smile had been met with a smile. Gabe felt Viv kiss his temple, heard Alya hurry over to see, pressing her own lips to the top of his head, but he only had eyes for the tiny girl in his arms, who was smiling at him like she couldn't imagine life getting any better.

*


	28. Chapter 28

In the grey aftermath of it all, what Gabe mostly remembered were the bills. There had been a government payment, a bonus for having a baby that turned up in his account about a month after it happened, but that hadn't quite covered the funeral costs, and then the bill for the ambulance arrived and Gabe had needed to call and explain that he didn't have the money, and set up regular payments to keep on top of it. 

The funeral had been small and Gabe had read one of Kim's poems, but he couldn't do it justice, and then his life had become a slow blur, like a chalk picture smudged out of focus by the rain. All he knew was the dim, blue of the NICU, and the beeping of the machines, and the droning of the doctors. He'd lost himself entirely in the sea of it; barely awake, unaware of the world beyond the hospital, stuck in a tired loop of grief until the day came to take the baby home with him and a nurse had come to visit, and offered him the suggestion of hope and friendship and a way out of the grey. 

And now the fog and the grey had finally lifted and he found himself standing at a wall, spray can at the ready and mind overflowing with colour. But he couldn't start just yet. He turned back to look at where Viv and Alya were setting up the picnic blanket on the grass in the little park by their home; their little piece of paradise. He smiled as he studied the colours and lines and shadows, shaking the can of basic black absent-mindedly as he let the picture settle in his mind, ready for painting.

He watched as Emmy waddled away from the group, her small, chubby legs as usual moving faster than Gabe thought was possible. Frankie was sitting up, watching her and bouncing like she wanted to be up and running too, giggling at the way Viv kept tripping over his own long legs as he tried to catch the run-away toddler. Alya was laughing too, setting out food and priming Billy's feed pump and Billy was watching the action, lying on his side, thumb firmly in his mouth, his grin just visible as he took in the sights and sounds and feel of the fresh, warm, air.

As Emmy ran his way Gabe scooped her up, laughing as she kicked her legs and squealed in delight as he tickled her before handing her back to her out-of-breath father.

"Thanks," Viv panted, holding his daughter tightly on his hip as he grinned down, cheeks red and lips parted. "So, are you ready to start?"

"I guess," Gabe mused, ruffling his hair as he thought about it. "Feels weird though, a legal wall that the council actually want me to paint."

"I sold it to them as building local culture," Viv grinned and Gabe returned the smile, still impressed that Viv was the sort of person who had contacts and could get Gabe an actual grant to do what he loved. 

He was incredible really, and even after a year Gabe still couldn’t quite believe sometimes that Vivyan had fallen in love with him. He tilted his chin and went up on tiptoe but before Vivyan could get close he started to laugh and pulled back.

"Hold on," he said as Viv blinked at him in confusion. " I gotta get my box."

"You're so short!" Viv groused affectionately, poking his tongue out between his teeth. “I love you, but you are so short.”

Gabe dragged his crate of spray cans over and stood on top, one hand still gripping his spray can, the other grabbing the worn cotton of Viv's t-shirt. A t-shirt from a festival they'd both been to before they even met, a wicked smile on his lips. 

"Shut it you tall fuck and kiss me."

*


End file.
